


The Last Witness

by Renaerys



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire | Pokemon Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire Versions
Genre: Archie is that thot and we love him, F/M, Tamerverse, i indulged a LOT with the Team Aqua pirates shit i will admit, i will take a knife in the ribs for wally i swear to god don't @ me, it's been so long i can't even remember how i tag this AU, steven continues to end up in unfortunate circumstances of his own dumbass making, the fic that is probably about to be 80K words of lead up just to get to that daiharu good stuff, why do we like him again? oh right... 😩👌, zinnia is my draco in leather pants and i love her SO much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaerys/pseuds/Renaerys
Summary: Everything was fine (it was not fine). May had a good job (no she didn't) and a nice apartment (it was a shit hole) that she shared with her best friend (okay, that one at least was true). What more could a girl ask for? (Not much when she didn't know what she was missing.)When Team Magma steals an ancient artifact better left buried, it sets in motion a cataclysm 4,000 years in the making. In the midst of such a crisis, the people of Hoenn have just one question: where the hell is the Champion?Alternatively: He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious...that primordial gods are about to smash the planet unless they pull their heads out of their asses and do something about it?HoennChampionShipping, eventually.
Relationships: Haruka | May/Tsuwabuki Daigo | Steven Stone
Comments: 51
Kudos: 67





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just binged the Crown Tundra DLC, so I decided to say f*ck it and post some of this finally. It’s been sitting on my hard drive for over a year now, which is just upsetting. Been away from Pokémon for a while, and I feel like I’m in a better place creatively at this point. Don’t get too excited, I honestly don’t know how often I’ll update this after the first few chapters. An effort will be made, but it may be of the extremely drawn-out variety. You’ve been warned. Check out my Tumblr for a refresher on all things Tamerverse if you need it. (For any newcomers, Tamerverse is the AU I write all my Pokémon stories in, so I encourage you to check out the info page if you have any questions about it!)
> 
> Oh, also, this first chapter is weird and I like it that way. The rest of the fic is more “normal” in my usual third person limited POV.

You were born to die.

There was a time in your life when you disagreed; you were born to live, just like everyone else. And one day you simply _would_ die, as we shall all die, eventually. No rhyme or reason to it, no preordained destiny or star-crossed tragedy, just an ending. Just like every story ends. And you were not entirely wrong. One day, you would die, but you would not end.

I know this because I know you. You are everything they prayed you would be. You were born in summer and blessed by the high tide. You had your mother’s protection and your father’s love, and with you came the light.

They called you Orion, because the heavens rose with you.

You grew up strong and brave. You took to fishing and hunting, astronomy and language, and you hungered for more. And there was more, so much more. It was yours for the taking. That was what the Lorekeepers promised, and their word had been true for ten thousand years.

You never questioned it, never wished for something different. Maybe you thought you never knew anything else. You knew me, but you were not born for me.

Even so, you chose me. That night when the stars fell, we lay on the warm sand side by side, alone together.

“They call them Dragon’s tears,” you say beside me, our heads together on the blanket as we attempt the impossible task of trying to count all the falling stars before they vanish. “See how they fall?”

“Tears? Are the Dragons sad?” I ask.

The shooting stars race across the sky like nacreous, wind-beaten raindrops, and I think they are dazzling in their tragedy. I’m only ten, but I’m sure nothing will ever move me the way this sight does.

“Just the one,” you say. “The stars are her eyes, and when they fall, she’s crying. But she’s not sad.”

“Then, why does she cry?”

“Because she’s lonely,” you say with the infallible wisdom of a fourteen-year-old boy. “She misses me.”

I bite my lip. When you look at the sky like it’s you who misses it, it’s me who feels lonely.

“One day,” you say, “I’ll meet her, and all the others who came before me. She’ll come for me, like she came for them.”

“Don’t go,” I say in a voice as small as I am. “Please?” I clutch your skinny hand with my trembling fingers.

You look at me, your silver-sad eyes full of starlight and smiling. They are almost too bright against the cover of night, your warm teak skin, the mop of matted black curls that tickle my nose when you turn your head to look at me in secret. “I have to go. She’s waiting for me.”

“Then, I’ll go too!” I blurt out, terrified of being left behind. What if I never see you again?

You look surprised, and then you smile. You take my hand in yours, and you are gentle. You are kind. “Okay. We’ll go together.”

“Promise?”

And though it is an impossible promise to keep, you agree anyway. “I promise. One day, when the sky falls, we’ll meet her together.”

I shiver at the thought, excited and afraid all at once as we watch the light fall, like it’s searching the earth and sea for something, or someone. Maybe for us. And I believe you. One day, the sky will fall for you.

And I’ll be waiting.

* * *

I have a confession to make: this story is not yours.

When they pillaged our holy place and excavated the Forbidden Stone, you did not stop them. But you tried.

You were just too late to stop them. And I was too late to stop you.

The Elder is here, her saggy, coal skin folded over her sunken eyes, but she sees everything. It is her duty to see, to remember, and to warn.

“Orion must act alone,” she chides me, while Jinga restrains me. “You must not interfere.”

But it’s too late for that. I struggle in Jinga’s hold, but he’s a big man, hirsute and muscular and fifteen years my senior.

A black Mega Charizard unleashes his azure fire in a rage over Orion, and he disappears amidst the diamond smog. The Elder watches in grim solemnity, but Jinga is as surprised as I am to witness such a miracle. It is my only chance, and I take it running, flying as Salamence climbs the chaotic air currents and lifts me higher. “Orion!” I scream.

But it’s Goodra’s roar that answers me, her skin impervious even to Mega Charizard’s heat as she shields you from him and the foreign Titan who compels him. Goodra’s Dragon Pulse is a devastating flood of scarlet, and she has bought you precious seconds you cannot afford to squander.

I cut my hand and become one with Salamence mid-flight, just as Mega Charizard’s Titan ward sees me. Mega Salamence is as steady as the charnel sea against the hurricane winds as he unleashes his scarlet fury upon Mega Charizard. But it never connects as the air warps and ripples with unseen power and dissolves the attack.

“Alain, go!” shouts a pale man from the ground, fighting to shield his face from the raging winds and molten dust. “I’ll handle this one!”

I bare my fangs to match Mega Salamence’s. The _arrogance_ of these insignificant humans who know nothing of the ruin they court churns my fury with the rising storm winds.

Mega Metagross is a metallic terror able to fly despite the demonic tempest, protected as he is by his innate Psychic abilities. But it is his Steel-hard shell that concerns me as his Tamer commands him to unleash his full power against me.

The ocean is a possessed creature ill-content simply to spectate our duel. It unleashes a mighty roar of its own. Even the volcano that once formed this island eons ago stirs from its long slumber and rumbles, necromantic. I feel their eldritch eyes on me, pupils dilating after so much darkness.

There’s no time to waste, but your heedless attackers have other plans. I try to reach you, but Mega Charizard’s fire is a torrid, blue blade in search of a whet stone. Mega Salamence’s roar is so loud it rattles my bones in their meat sack.

“There’s no time!” you shout as you see me struggling.

But I will make time for you. I’ll die before I let these mere _men_ ruin everything, the Elder’s warnings be damned.

Goodra mounts her challenge against Mega Charizard, while I steer Mega Salamence toward a confrontation with Mega Metagross. I feel my Dragon’s power, red and terrible and mine, ignite my skin and burn my sinews as his Outrage propels us down and down, straight into the heart of molten light that cannot protect Mega Metagross and his fool ward. I shriek, primeval and inhuman, and the last thing I see is the fool's hard, slate eyes wide with alarm as though he has never known such a mortal sensation before.

The crack is deafening, but I feel nothing, not even the teeth-shattering impact. Mega Salamence’s immense wings are a bloody veil covering me from head to toe as Psychic ripples flood over us and slough away layers of teal scales like icing from a cake. But pain is nothing but a distraction. Dragons, after all, are the masters of sea and sky. We ruled this world long before _they_ ever set foot in it. But man’s short life dooms him to a short memory. I must remind this one of what he has forgotten.

I am on my hands and knees, rolling over rock and dust, my blood a faithful marker of my passage behind me, but still I feel nothing. My tongue finds a gooey hole where a molar once nestled, lost among the rubble now. I spit and get to my feet.

_There._

I see him struggling, shaking as he tries to stand. The pale man is not as fragile as his ego, it seems. He does not flinch when he sees me approaching, my black rapier drawn.

“Who are you? Why are you attacking us?” he demands with the confidence of one used to being answered. There is not a scratch on him under the grime and dirt that cakes his cracked, expensive, black armor. It’s as if his very skin is all the armor he needs.

I lunge and swing my rapier, and he tries to dodge on clumsy feet encumbered by the broken land. A huge wave crashes on the rocky shore and shakes the ground, forcing us both to our humble knees. I swing again as we fall and my blade collides with hard armor and harder flesh. A welt tightens around his neck like a red noose, but my blade draws no blood. He gags and clutches his neck, but his eyes tell a different story.

 _Steel_ _Adamantine_. I could not pierce his skin any more than I could pierce tempered steel.

He cannot speak, but there is no more need for words. The volcano has erupted and defiles the sea with its molten tongues, yet the sea bucks against it. Steam and dust and smoke poison the air and turn it a soupy black. At the center of it all looms the Forbidden Stone, Orion now at its crystalline base. My heart leaps into my throat as I see what he is attempting to do.

“Orion!” I scream, dropping my useless rapier and running to his side.

But hands as heavy as iron grab my wrists and yank me back.

“The Key Stone,” he wheezes, barely intelligible over the howling winds and groaning earth. “We’re trying to contain it.”

I bare my teeth. “Contain it?! You _freed_ it! Fool, you have no idea what you’ve done!”

The fool bares his own teeth. “I’m the Champion. It’s my _job_ to—”

A chasm opens beneath our feet like a wound, and we break apart before we’re sucked under. Mega Salamence roars, and it’s not long before I find what has scared him. The Forbidden Stone glows like a fallen shard of the cracked firmament high above, and something has slithered past. I stare, humbled with awe despite myself.

“The sky is falling,” I say before I can stop myself.

The self-styled Champion of men is equally august, slack-jawed as he catches a glimpse of snaking jade through the smoke and smog.

But the winds have grown too strong, my cape is tattered and ripping off my shoulders, and I feel my weight lifting off the ground. Before I’m blown away like a leaf in the wind, Mega Salamence is there to catch me and brave the godly gales. Mega Metagross is forgotten as he Teleports to help his ward, but even a Steel Adamantine is no match for divine retribution. I remember why I’m here.

“Orion!” I shout, but the winds drown my voice and the sea nearly drowns me. The tidal wave is freezing cold and hits me with the force of a rampaging Tyrantrum, a force so strong even Mega Salamence cannot withstand it. Seawater fills my lungs and burns like fire. I feel abyssal jaws closing down around me, a grudge as old as time and hungry for blood.

Mega Salamence’s Outrage is a paltry shield, but it is enough to spare both our lives just long enough to escape the leviathan's maw. His thick wings curl around me as a blast of lava falls upon us and the tide chasing us, more concerned with the waves than with us. My insignificance is the only reason I survive. I am nothing to these primordial forces that existed eons before me, and which will live on beyond me.

But it’s you I came for, not them. The sky has come for you too, but as I said, this is not your story.

You are with the Forbidden Stone, sacred sword in hand. This is when I realize something is wrong. This storm, the Forbidden Stone, the humans who started all this—none of it is right. None of it was supposed to happen.

And I am too late.

The Forbidden Stone explodes with static light in every color on the spectrum as you strike it with your holy blade, and the heavens writhe and roar along with it, until the pressure is too much.

The Dragon’s tears are fire-bright as they rain ruin on everything in sight. Mega Charizard is struck through the chest, and he and his Titan ward plummet to the earth that has already swallowed Goodra. Mega Salamence is the superior Flyer, but the Dragon’s tears are falling fast and razor-sharp, shards of the broken firmament itself.

“Orion!” I scream, desperate to be heard.

All around you, prism light crackles and the Dragon’s tears collide with sea and sand with meteoric ferocity. You see me, perhaps you hear me, or perhaps it’s just the wind forcing your hand. And when you turn, you reveal the half of you that has already melted away with the lava devouring the stones beneath your feet. You open your mouth with words I cannot hear, but the smog and steam rise and warp your image—or are those my tears?

The heat boils my skin, but I claw my way closer. _Orion, Orion, Orion!_ You were born, and the heavens rose with you. I am so close, but the Forbidden Stone cracks with dead light, and Mega Salamence pulls me away. My bleeding, boiled hand closes around the hilt of your holy sword, heavy with ashes and blood. You were never there at all.

The heavens are broken, and before my eyes their jade starlight washes out in cold prism light, impossibly devoured along with you. But below, waves crash and mountains move, their pitiless clash resuming, unfettered. They will drown this place in fire and salt. Time will not stop them, Space will not confine them, and even the Void will not silence them. Only you could do that, but you are fallen.

You are fallen, and the heavens are fallen with you.

But this is not your story.

* * *

Bones turn to dust, iron fades to rust, and I am still here, waiting for the sky to fall.

_You promised me._

You promised you would take me with you.

.

.

.

You lied.

* * *

“You don’t know what you do. This is sacrilege,” the Elder chides me.

“This is justice,” I say, my hand closed tightly around the hilt of our sword. Your ashes are still embedded in the grooves, wedded to the blade and my unyielding grip.

“My child, you are in pain. We all are. But this is not the answer. This is not your destiny.”

“It wasn’t Aster’s destiny, either. Until she made it so.”

The Elder recoils at my casual use of that venerated name. As if a name holds power. Would that it were so, and I would invoke the ancestors to avenge you. But there is only me now. Even the ancestors tremble. “You foolish girl, you are not her. This was Orion’s task—”

“—and he failed. I won’t. Get out of my way.”

She is stubborn and set in her ways. A family trait passed down to her only granddaughter now standing before her. But she is old and tired and blinded by a tradition fed by fear and sucked bone dry. I am not afraid. I have nothing left to lose, except for her.

“There is nothing you can do,” the Elder tries to reason with me. “You were there. You saw him fall. The Shades have nothing left to stop them. If they were to truly awaken, then without Orion… Without a true Witness—”

I set my jaw so tightly my sharp teeth draw blood. It’s bitter on my tongue, but sweet going down, and I am ablaze with conviction. “Without Orion, all you have is me.”

“You are not enough! That blade is not meant for you.”

I can smell the salt and incense and overripe fruit in the air. The seaside temple where we stand is hot and dim on this starless night. It is the only manmade structure on this lonely island in the Pacifidlog archipelago, and the only home I have ever known. There is nothing I won’t do to protect it, even from its own people.

“You pray every day for the sky to rise again.” I brandish the blade at her. It is long and heavy, grey as the heart of a storm, its pommel a sleeping Dragonite head carved of raw Sun stone. “With this sword, I’ll raise it myself.”

“No.” Grandmother Elder spreads her thick arms, saggy with age and covered in silver rings and brown liver spots, blocking, beseeching. “Even if it were possible, I will not let you.”

I think of you, your eyes the envy of a star, your broad hands as they held me and promised me and loved me. I want to feel those hands on me now, to go back to our beach and lie with you, watching the Dragon’s tears fall. Why do we find such beauty at the apex of our pain?

When my blade pierces the Elder’s gut and spills her dark blood on the polished wood floor, I think I begin to understand why.

She looks up at me, her black eyes a mirror of my own. Even now, she is surprised. My own flesh and blood, and she does not know me at all. Her blood has always been too thin to know me, to remember me.

“I won’t let our world burn,” I vow as her knees give out, her heart following suit. “Not for you, not for him, and not for me.”

The sacred blade is slick with her blood, shimmering with a starlight all its own on this black night. I reach for the end of my tattered cape to clean it, but the steel curiously drinks her blood and warms in my hand, a ghoulish gourmand humming its surfeit. Sated, for now. I sheath it, pull my cape tighter around me on this abnormally cold night, and call out to Salamence to be my ever faithful wings.

Pacifidlog shrinks behind me as we rise toward darkness, the tropical air icy and unfamiliar. Someone will find her, eventually. Perhaps Jinga, or Renza. Someone will come for her, give her a proper burial, mourn her, as I cannot. She did not understand, but you would. You do. I can feel it in the ancient steel at my hip, in the Old Blood we share. Dragons may die, but we never end, and we never forget. The sky will rise again, and it will say my name.

I am Zinnia, and this is my story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my dudes, if you enjoyed this and subsequent updates as you go, kudos and especially comments of any and all lengths and verbosity are extremely welcome and encouraged! Whether it’s a short and sweet “I liked it!” or a two-page essay of the very specific metaphors that spoke to you on a visceral level (hey, I don’t know how you’re prioritizing your spare time, but I _totally_ dig it), the single best thing you as a reader can do for a writer like me is to let me know you’re out there on this journey with me. Thanks! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, guys! Y’all are heroes for confirming my decision to post this thing finally. I love you all.

_One year later…_

There were two kinds of people in the world: the ones who loved runny eggs, and the ones who hated them. The greasy man at the corner two-top who needed a shower four days ago was the former. He had already finished off his side of buttered toast and was reaching for his girlfriend’s to sop up the runny egg yolk that had flooded his plate and submerged his hash browns in a sticky, yellow swamp. A bit of yolk glossed his jutting lower lip, and he laved his pink tongue over it to suck down every last drop.

His blue eye shadowed-girlfriend was violently of the latter persuasion. She pulled four impractically tiny, recycled napkins from the metal dispenser and waggled them at him. Her many golden bangles jangled. He obliged her with a wet smile that, beyond any logic and reason, endeared her.

“Change it to the Morning Buzz, sweetheart,” said an older man at the counter slowly working his way through a junior stack drenched in way too much syrup.

May Birch averted her gaze from the odd couple and eyed the old man warily. He was unshaven and a little shabby, and he looked a little too comfortable leering like that at her. She ignored the familiar, slimy sensation crawling down her back and pulled the remote from a large pocket in her yellow waitress uniform.

 _“As you can see behind me, Gabby, spring tourism is off to a small but strong start here in Lilycove City with beachgoers flocking from as far away as Galar,”_ reported the anchorwoman on site in Lilycove City. _“Cleanup efforts in the wake of last year’s category five hurricane are ongoing, though. The Weather Institute has issued an official statement that they’re tracking and investigating the ‘bizarre’ and ‘atypical’ weather patterns over the past year following the freak storm—”_

“May, order up!”

May yawned and headed for the kitchen window on autopilot. Steaming plates piled high with every conceivable combination of eggs, grits, bacon, hash browns, and sliced Hondew berries awaited her. She stacked the plates down her arm, three at a time, and carried them back to the dining room to serve to the hungry patrons.

“Hey hon, can I get some more coffee?” asked the gaudy girlfriend at the runny egg two-top.

May accepted her half-empty mug and smiled tiredly. “No problem, it’ll just be a minute.”

She swung around the white-tile bar counter and dumped out the tepid coffee in the bar sink. The coffee maker eked out a fresh batch drip by agonizing drip, but it was barely halfway filled. She would have to tell Joe to get a new machine, preferably one manufactured in this decade.

Not that it would do much good to complain. Her manager was as miserly as they came. The dishwasher had been busted for two years, only a duct tape patchwork job holding it together. Well, it hadn’t exploded yet, so there was that. May gave the coffee maker a hard tap, and it sputtered pitiably but dripped no faster. She opened it up and cursed when the filter, clogged and full of coffee grounds, sloshed and hot coffee burned her fingers.

“Damnit.” She set to work cleaning it all up, cursing Joe all the while.

 _“In other news, Devon Corporation had its annual stockholders meeting last Wednesday,”_ reported Gabby from Morning Buzz’s station in Slateport City. _“Devon’s latest financial reports were below investor expectations for the third consecutive quarter thanks in part to increasingly stringent environmental regulations in key development areas. President Joseph Stone declined to comment on the impact of Team Magma’s lobbying efforts against corporate environmental encroachment. Of course, it’s no secret that Team Magma’s CEO, Maximillian von Ehr, was one of many former Devon employees terminated in during the recession seven years ago…”_

“May, your cheese omelette and Tamato soup’re getting cold!” called the line cook.

“A little busy here!” May called back. She poured out a fresh mug of coffee and returned it to the girlfriend with a forced smile.

“May,” the line cook said again.

“Yeah, I got it, I got it.” May swept in to pick up the orders.

The line cook shot her a knowing look. “Coffee machine’s busted, you know.”

“Wow, really? I had no idea. You know I just like hitting it for no reason,” May snapped, though her smile betrayed her.

The line cook, Brendan Ozawa, grinned back at her. “Next time, we should just say we’re outta coffee.”

May snorted. “Yeah, because a diner called ‘Cuppa Joe’ would totally be out of coffee, ever.”

“You know, with the amount of processed meat we eat these days, I doubt we’ll even need fresh air and clean water to live soon. All those preservatives’ll keep us going through whatever so-called corporate environmental encroachment comes next.”

May’s gaze shifted back to the television set in the ceiling corner, where Gabby the conventionally attractive news anchor was still talking about Devon.

_“Joseph Stone will be sixty-seven this year, already five years older than his father, Byron Stone, when he passed the leadership mantle. It’s long been assumed that Mr. Stone’s only son, Steven Stone, will take over as Devon’s next President and CEO, but many have voiced their doubts about the line of succession in recent years following Steven’s appointment as Champion. He was scheduled to arrive in Rustboro City for the annual stockholders meeting last Monday, but sources say he never made an appearance. Our requests for comment from Ever Grande have been declined, leading many to wonder where Champion Steven is and why he decided to miss such an important and public event without explanation…”_

“Speak for yourself,” May said, only half listening to the broadcast. “I’m vegetarian and proud.”

Brendan rolled his eyes. “You’re proud, all right.”

May stuck her tongue out at his teasing. He shrugged and headed back to the griddle to fill the next slew of orders. Both of them were working double shifts today, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Petalburg City was no Lilycove, but even here rent wasn’t cheap for a minimum wage waitress and line cook. She frowned.

“It was just a joke,” Brendan said. “I don’t think you’re proud. Not in a bad way, I mean.”

“Huh? Oh, not that. I was thinking of something else.”

“You mean like our electricity bill? You’re covering this month, right? You said you would since I had that concert two weeks ago.”

May rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just this once. Next time, try not to blow our rent money on a guy who wears red leather onesies to work.”

“Hey, Ryuki’s a _genius_ , okay? He’s hands down the greatest rockstar of our generation.”

“Nobody who wears that much red leather is the greatest anything, if you ask me.”

“Hey, you two! I don’t pay you to flirt. Get back to work,” said Joe the manager when he passed them on his way to the register.

Joe was an irritable, middle-aged white guy who looked exactly like the kind of person you’d expect to operate a crappy roadside diner downtown. He wasn’t a bad guy, and he didn’t harass his female staff the way the manager at May’s last restaurant gig had. It was a low bar, but a necessary one. Brendan flipped Joe off when he wasn’t looking.

“Dick,” Brendan mumbled, adjusting his hairnet. His thick, black hair refused to stay tucked neatly inside. “I mean, how many times do we have to tell him we’re just friends?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” May said. “Anyway, shift’s almost over. Don’t forget you’re on laundry duty this week.”

“Great, that’s just what I want to go home to: your dirty socks.”

May smirked. “What? Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

This time, he flipped her off, but May just laughed and got back to work. Having grown up with Brendan, there was a time in her pubescent teenage years when she’d thought about him as a potential conquest, but thankfully put the notion out of her head immediately. It wasn’t that Brendan was bad-looking or anything—his black eyes were naturally narrow and perceptive, his figure was as lean as leather (maybe a bit on the short side for her tastes), and he even had an objectively sexy eyebrow scar. The couple years she had on him mattered less at twenty-four than they had at seventeen.

But romance had never been in the cards for them. She was glad of it. Romances came and went, but her friendship with Brendan was one of a kind. Even so, the one-bedroom apartment they shared in downtown Petalburg was often the cause of many an argument between them. It was the best they could afford on their wages, and it wasn’t all bad; at least they had each other.

Sometimes May thought about getting out of Petalburg. She knew Brendan thought about it all the time. But neither of them had any real ideas of what they wanted to “be” when they grew up. Admittedly, May was a little behind others her age who had not dropped out of community college to pursue the glamorous career of a full-time waitress while they “found” themselves. And Brendan, well… That was a different story, and one best not talked about within a hundred yards of him.

May had long ago accepted that she was about as average as a cup of diner coffee: not the best choice, but good enough to get the job done when there were no better options available. Even her looks were nondescript medium roast—she was just another brown-haired, blue-eyed white girl. Nothing objectionable, and nothing outstanding either. She’d never met anyone who _hated_ a hot cup of slightly burned coffee in the morning.

But there was one thing May had that few, not even Brendan, had: she could go anywhere, anytime.

“Over here, Tropius!” May called.

She was on a fifteen-minute smoke break, though she did not smoke. Instead, she took her breaks with her Pokémon. Tropius, Toucannon, and Masquerain knew when May took her break and returned to her from whatever incredible journey they’d been on today. All Flyers, they knew no boundaries and could go almost anywhere in the world, if it suited them. With their help, May had flown as far north as Fallarbor Town and as far east as Mossdeep City when she was still in high school. She had once dreamed of going farther, visiting other continents, maybe Johto one day if Brendan had any interest in rediscovering his roots. The saurian Tropius alone was large enough to accommodate two riders with plenty of room to spare.

But her bills didn’t pay for themselves, and with the double and triple shifts she pulled at the diner, there was no time to visit foreign continents, let alone leave Petalburg. One day, perhaps.

_One day, I’ll go._

It had been her mantra for the last six years, and somehow she was not a day closer to it.

“Hey, big guy,” she said, smiling and rubbing Tropius’s leathery, brown snout. “Did you have a good time?”

Tropius was nearly as tall as the diner, and his folded green wings were as long as he was tall. The fruit that famously grew under his chin was nothing but a few bulbous seeds now, but come spring, they would blossom into a flowery, white beard and bear the sweetest Nanab berries known to man. Tropius made a low rumbling sound of pleasure at May’s touch, lowering his long neck so she could access his head.

Toucannon was busy cleaning her glossy black feathers with her talons. Her colorful, arm’s length beak was much too cumbersome for the task. Masquerain orbited around May nipping at her long bangs. He was about three feet wide and tall, but most of his girth was made up of his two false-eye antennae that glowered menacingly at everything in sight. Nevertheless, Masquerain had the sunniest disposition of all May’s Flyers.

May kissed Masquerain on his fuzzy, white head, ruffled Toucannon’s raven neck feathers, and recalled them all to their Pokéballs at the end of her short break. She stared at the three Pokéballs wistfully.

“One day,” she said. One day, she would keep that promise to herself.

Around 4 p.m., the diner was slow in the post-lunch, pre-dinner lull. May nevertheless happily set up the blender and fetched the mint chocolate chip ice cream from the walk-in freezer. She scooped out huge balls of the frozen treat to make milkshakes.

“Hi, May.”

Right on time with his book bag and crisp school uniform, as usual. “Hi, Wally. How was school?”

Wallace Michael Forbes, III—Wally to his friends, of whom May and Brendan were among the scant few—was a rail-thin, flaxen-haired, seventeen-year-old high school senior with watery bug-eyes and a strong jawline that would have looked attractively leonine on someone thirty pounds heavier than him. His private school uniform was stately and pristine, but the blazer draped him like a curtain, and the tie cinched his neck in a navy noose.

“Just happy it’s over.” Wally was always a little shy around May even though she’d known him since he was just a little boy. Perhaps it was the aura of an older woman that made him nervous. She wished he would get over it, but it was kind of endearing, the way a younger brother endeared himself to an older sister.

“Well, I’m happy to see you. I got your usual: a mint chocolate chip shake with marshmallows and a bendy straw. On the house.”

Wally blushed, but he eagerly climbed onto a bar stool. “Thank you.”

He leaned awkwardly forward to get to the straw, and May peered at him. “Wally? Something wrong with your chest?”

Wally choked on a sip of his shake and furiously wiped his mouth. “Um, my what?”

May grinned and poked at his chest, which burst to life in an array of colors and revealed a startled Kecleon clinging to his shoulders. The shy chameleon crawled over Wally’s shoulder and curled his long tail around Wally’s thin arm. One eye stared daggers at May, while the other seemed interested in Wally’s milkshake.

“Your camouflage is getting better, Kecleon, but you know Joe’s rule: no Pokémon inside.”

Wally flushed fantastically. “Sorry, he just likes being out of his Pokéball…”

Kecleon shot out his long tongue so fast, May would have missed it had he not snagged Wally’s bendy straw. Melted mint ice cream dripped on Wally’s uniform.

“Oh no! My clothes…” Wally grabbed a fistful of the useless recycled napkins from a dispenser to try to dab his navy blazer clean.

“Here, I got it.” May wetted a dish towel in the sink and leaned over to help him clean up.

Kecleon changed color to blend in with Wally’s jacket and hair just as Joe ambled by on his way to the register. Joe eyed Wally suspiciously, muttered a gruff hello, then went on his way with a fistful of tens to do who knew what. Wally watched him go.

“I guess Kecleon’s disguise is getting better, after all,” May said. “You should recall him all the same, though. Better safe than sorry.”

“I think your boss is embezzling,” Wally said, watching the door through which Joe had disappeared.

“What?”

“His watch. It’s a Timex. My father has one—they go for six, seven thousand, at least.”

“Well, Joe’s is obviously a fake.”

Wally’s stare was as frigid as his milkshake. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Wally, hey man! Thought I heard you out here.” Brendan emerged from the kitchen with a soiled towel for his hands, his hairnet fast losing the battle against his thick, unruly hair. “So, how’s the senioritis treating you?”

Wally blinked up at Brendan. “Not so bad. I’m taking all advanced classes.”

Brendan rolled his eyes. “Always the overachiever. Getting ready for Slateport University next year, right?”

“Yes. You liked it, right?”

Brendan shrugged like it didn’t matter at all that he’d attended the most prestigious, most expensive university in the country once upon a time. “It was fine, whatever. It’s college. But hey, enjoy your last semester of high school. It’s the last time you’ll get to slack off, trust me.”

Wally, ever agreeable, just nodded. “Okay.”

May watched their exchange, but she did not contribute. As far as she was concerned, she was the last person who should be comforting Wally about his future, given how hers had turned out so far. The thought brought a frown to her face, and she turned to wash the blender to hide it.

Wally ended up inviting them both to dinner at his place, and Brendan eagerly accepted for the chance to have someone else cook for a change. May, however, had a prior engagement.

The three of them parted ways after May’s and Brendan’s shifts were up, and May released Toucannon to fly her south to Littleroot Town for a long overdue family dinner. By the time she arrived, wind-swept but invigorated, the sun had already set.

She touched down in the front yard of her childhood home, gathered her Pokéballs, and released them all. Tropius took to grazing, while Toucannon settled in the soft grass to nap. Masquerain, nocturnal by nature, buzzed off toward the forests of Route 101. May’s fourth and final Pokémon lingered a moment.

“There’s nothing better than a warm hug from you after a long, shitty day of work,” May mumbled against Blaziken’s rich, ruddy plumage.

He was her oldest and strongest Pokémon, a gift from her father when she was just a little girl and Blaziken was a little Torchic. They’d grown up together, and they’d been inseparable ever since.

Blaziken cooed like a Pidgey as May ran her fingers through his mane of golden feathers the way she knew he liked, and he exposed his neck to her for more access, ever trusting. He may have looked imposing and even menacing with his wicked raptor beak, talons, and the height of a man and a half, but Blaziken was as mellow as Tropius with none of Toucannon’s vanity.

May soon parted from him when she heard the door open and a teenaged girl came running out.

“May! You’re finally here!!” which, if anyone could enunciate not one, but _two_ exclamation points, it was May’s younger sister.

“Hi June— _oof_!”

May lost her breath when June threw herself bodily at May, and May had no choice but to catch her. She was still in her school uniform, the same uniform Wally had had on earlier in the day.

“Ugh, you smell like fried socks!” June complained.

“Take it up with Brendan. He’s on laundry duty this week and seriously slacking.”

“Gross!” June laughed. “Cutting it close, by the way.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just came from work. I left as soon as I could.”

“Typical May. Working until the eleventh hour.”

The sisters studied each other for a moment. They were as dissimilar as sisters could be. Where May was tall and athletic, June was short and curvy even in her adolescence. June took after their father with her prominent nose and square jaw, whereas May didn’t have a clue who she took after—she’d never met her birth parents, and the Birches had adopted her when she was still a baby. But whatever connection the sisters lacked in blood, they more than made up for in bond.

“But I can forgive you for bringing your better half back to visit.” June turned on Blaziken and threw her arms around him. “Hiya, pretty parrot! Did you miss me? Ooooh, I missed you!”

Blaziken, an apex predator with the power to disembowel and roast his prey with a flick of his talons and a ruffle of his fiery feathers, simply stood there and tapped June’s ponytailed head with his beak affectionately.

“Ahhh so soft,” June preened.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let poor Blaziken go catch some dinner before he’s completely emasculated.”

“Showing emotions is healthy, May. _Especially_ for the strong, silent types. Isn’t that right, Blaziken? Mmm, yes it is! Who’s a good boy?” She nuzzled his mane.

May rolled her eyes and yanked June off her Pokémon. “Okay, okay, let’s just go inside. Ugh, I need a shower before dinner.”

“Yeah, you smell like a human french fry. You’re as bad as Dad, I swear.”

“Did he just get back?”

“About twenty minutes before you. God, you should’ve seen him. There was literally sand coming out of his ears.” June shuddered. “Who knows how long it’s been since he bathed?”

May laughed, and they went inside together.

* * *

Wally had the overwhelming urge to run to his room and smother his head with a pillow. His father’s ire was a Beartic woken from hibernation and looking for an easy kill.

“I can go,” Brendan said politely. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Wallace Michael Forbes, Original Mix, pinched the bridge of his long, thin nose and sighed, as if it were the hardest thing he had ever done. “No, of course you mustn’t go. You’ve already come all this way.”

Wally wanted to shrivel up and die of shame. Brendan was going to storm out, he just knew it. He was going to leave and never want to have anything to do with Wally ever again.

“Normally, I would welcome you warmly, but tonight Patricia and I have very important business matters to discuss with our guests.”

“I understand, sir. We can take dinner in the parlor if that’s easier?”

Wallace thought about this. “That may be best. I’ll inform Ms. Petunia to prepare the parlor accordingly.” He cast a glance at Wally, those severe, green eyes hard and unyielding. “We’ll speak later, son.” And then, after a razor-blade scrutiny: “Don’t slouch.”

Wally could only nod and pull his shoulders back so far they were like to snap right off. It wasn’t until Wallace had left them in the receiving room that he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Hey, chill. Nobody died,” Brendan said gently. He even had the courage to smile. “You okay?”

Wally clenched his fists. It felt like someone had cranked him as tight as he could go. “I…”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until Brendan’s smile fell, and he took Wally aside by the shoulders to a sofa by the bookshelf. “Hey, it’s all right. No harm done, see?”

“I-I’m so sorry,” Wally stammered. “I had no idea he w-would say…”

“I get it, really. It’s not your fault.”

Wally shook his head. The tears were coming in strong now, and he hid his face in shame. “I forgot about t-the guests. Mother s-said it was okay, but I didn’t realize—”

Brendan sat down next to him on the sofa. Dressed in a tailored suit and freshly showered, he was a far cry from the greasy line cook at Cuppa Joe. “Wally, look at me.”

Wally was afraid to comply, but an ingrained sense of obedience bade him look. Brendan was watching him intently, stern but open, like he was really listening.

“You’re not responsible for your dad’s rude behavior.”

Wally just stared at him and wished he could crawl under the sofa.

“Say it back to me now,” Brendan said.

Wally swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m n-not responsible…”

“For my dad’s shitty behavior.”

“You said rude before. I’m not responsible for my dad’s rude behavior.”

Brendan smirked. “Exactly.”

Wally flushed. That hadn’t been as hard as he’d thought. Brendan put a hand on his shoulder and held his gaze.

“And you’re not your dad. Whatever he says or however he behaves, that’s on him.”

“But… Aren’t you angry? He was so rude. Don’t you want to leave?”

Wally imagined having to sit with his parents and their important business guests at dinner, silent and scrutinized like a circus side show. He didn’t know if it was his sickly pallor, or his slight frame, or just _him_ , but for some reason people tended to gawk at him. Like they smelled something unpleasant: noticeable enough to draw their morbid attention, but mild enough not to besmirch the family reputation.

“Of course I don’t want to leave,” Brendan said. “I’m here for you, not your dad. We’re friends.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Wally sniffled and managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Wally was too grateful for words. He and Brendan would have dinner away from his parents, play video games, eat junk food—well, maybe not junk food. Everything in Forbes Manor was organic, free-range, and healthy, unfortunately. But they still had the video games. And if they got bored of that, there were always the Pokémon. Brendan seemed like he was in a good mood, or at least refusing to let a chilly welcome bring him down. Maybe he’d even agree to a training session later if Wally waited for the right moment to ask.

Petunia, the head of the Forbes family household, arranged for dinner to be brought to the parlor especially for Wally and Brendan, and soon Wally forgot about his father’s rudeness. It was such a relief not having to adhere to his parents’ dinner customs for a change and just relax around a friend. At least, as much as Wally dared to relax. It wasn’t until after dinner, when the two boys absconded to Wally’s enormous bedroom on the second floor of the manor and powered up _Game of Champions III_ , the latest and greatest release of the popular Pokémon battle simulator, that they shrugged off their dinner jackets, kicked off their shoes, and began a brutal, virtual campaign against each other.

“Hah! Take that, Venusaur!” Brendan said.

Wally was horror-struck at the massive damage Brendan’s Blastoise had done to his player-character’s Venusaur in the last match of the round. “But I have the type advantage,” he said, stricken.

Brendan snorted. “You put too much stock in type alignments and you’ll underestimate your enemies.” To prove his point, he smashed the buttons on his controller and had Blastoise unleash a devastating Ice Punch that knocked out Wally’s Venusaur.

“Oh yeah, I won! I’m the very best like no one ever was!” Brendan whooped.

Wally crossed his arms. “Hey, I don’t think they heard you over in Slateport.”

“Ooh, jealous much? You can always challenge me again for the title. As reigning Champion, I have to accept any and all serious challenges.”

“Eh, I would, but I feel like you’d just beat me again. I’m no good at this stuff.”

“Sure you are. It’s just a game; anybody can get good if they practice.”

Wally glanced at his bedside table, where three Pokéballs sat next to his alarm clock. “Yeah, I guess.”

Brendan followed Wally’s gaze and got to his feet with an offering hand. “Well, you know what they say: practice makes perfect.”

Wally stared up at him, wide-eyed. “S-Seriously? You don’t mind…?”

Brendan laughed. “Showing you how awesome me and my Pokémon are? Why would I mind?”

Soon, Wally and Brendan were outside in the Forbes’ massive backyard garden watching their Pokémon beat down unsuspecting hedges without mercy.

“Double-Edge!” Brendan commanded.

Delcatty sprinted at a rose bush, a blur of cream and violet fur, and shredded the flowers to confetti. Wally’s Grovyle hissed and puffed out his chest, his red throat bulging with indignation over the crass treatment of the roses. Brendan’s Marshtomp waded in the garden pond, disturbing the glugging Magikarp and generally making a nuisance of herself splashing about, while Xatu looked on, bored, as she cleaned her bright feathers.

“See that?” Brendan said, crossing his arms. “Precision. Speed. Battling shouldn’t be about brute strength, it’s an art. It’s beautiful.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wally said. “Delcatty’s beautiful _and_ strong.”

Brendan shrugged, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “She is, but so’s Kirlia. Go on, try it.”

Kirlia, silent as a corpse next to Wally and just as frail, merely looked up at him, his red eyes glimmering in the moonlight. If Kirlia wasn’t floating right next to him, Wally may not have noticed him at all. But as soon as Wally had the thought, it left his mind—Kirlia’s tapering arm touched his, and immediately Wally felt a warmth enter him, soothing and soft, like his mother singing him to sleep when he was little.

Kirlia hummed, the same tune Wally’s mother used to sing to him when he was small (smaller). Wally didn’t question it, was no longer surprised by it. Ever since Kirlia had evolved years ago, he had an uncanny ability to read Wally like an open book. Perhaps it was the Psychic in him that knew his mind—Brendan certainly thought so. Or perhaps it was the Fairy in him that knew his true heart, called to it.

He didn’t even have to voice his command. Kirlia felt his truth as Wally himself felt it, and he was more than happy to indulge. Floating ahead, he raised his ribbon-thin arms as if in offering, and the stone fountain feeding the pond where Marshtomp floated on her back began to tremble. In his mind’s eye, Wally saw a version of the future of his own making, and Kirlia made it real. The waif-like Pokémon quivered and unleashed a wave of Psychic energy that shuddered the grass underfoot, shuddered Delcatty nearby and drew a hiss from her. It hit the fountain, a dancing Oricorio figure, and spread its wings in a fancy dip. The stone protested with a whine, but it bent all the same under Kirlia’s—Wally’s will.

Wally suddenly found himself out of breath as he stared at the transfigured fountain. His knees gave out, and he fell to the grass. Kirlia and Brendan were at his side in a flash, the former silent but patient, the latter swearing.

“Shit, are you okay? Wally, hey! Can you breathe? Where’s your inhaler?”

Wally had already fumbled for it in his pants pocket, but it tumbled out on the ground. Brendan was quick to snatch it up, hold it to his lips, and release it. Healing wind swirled down Wally’s clenched throat, filled his screaming lungs, and he trembled like the grass in the wind.

“F-Fine,” Wally croaked, braving a smile.

Brendan was not smiling. “Damnit, Wally, you can’t overexert yourself like that, okay? Seriously, you scared the shit outta me.”

“I’m fine.” Wally struggled to his feet. Kirlia’s energy lifted him like a gentle breeze. “Kirlia would never let anything happen to me.”

Brendan glared at him, his narrow eyes even narrower than usual. “Look. I know how much you want to train Pokémon. I get it, believe me. But if it affects your health—”

“I said I’m fine, so just drop it already.” Wally immediately deflated at the sharpness in his own voice. “I-I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you…”

“It’s fine,” Brendan said softly. “You just scared me, that’s all. You know you’re not supposed to push it with the Psychic stuff.”

Wally knew very well. Ever since Kirlia’s evolution, his Psychic powers had only increased. Where Ralts had barely been able to Teleport between rooms in Forbes Manor, Kirlia was exhibiting extraordinary leaps in telekinesis and telepathy far beyond Wally’s limited comprehension. There was a reason few plebs kept Psychics around. They were the most independent of all Pokémon, able to think for themselves on a level far beyond even the most learned humans. They knew no masters and suffered no fools.

And Wally, even on his best days, felt like little more than a fool in fancy clothes next to Kirlia.

“I’m fine,” he said again.

Kirlia held his gaze, bloody red on sea foam green. There was no lie they did not see through.

Brendan, however, nodded at length. “Okay. Just be careful, okay? Psychic’s are no joke.”

“What about Xatu?” Wally said, feeling defensive. “She’s Psychic, and you train her just fine.”

Brendan set his jaw. Xatu paused her cleaning and peered at the two humans who’d dragged her in to their sophomoric bickering, and Kirlia silently floated in between Wally and her line of sight.

“That’s a little different. Xatu’s been with me since I was a kid, a lot younger than you.”

_And I’m not just a pleb like you._

The thought went unspoken, but Wally heard it loud and clear. But he knew Brendan, knew he didn’t mean it like that. Of all people, Brendan wouldn’t mean it like that.

Wally forced himself to smile. “I know you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard.”

Brendan offered him a tentative grin and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, to be fair, you never break boundaries unless you, ya know, break them. Just be careful, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

“I will.”

Brendan remained outside with the Pokémon while Wally volunteered to grab drinks. He wondered if his parents would object to Brendan staying the night, and decided to ask once their guests had left.

On his way to the kitchen, Wally passed by the living room, where his parents and their guests had retired for a night cap. He kept his head down and stuck close to the far wall so as not to intrude, but he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation.

“Climate control, natural disaster aversion, even extending the landmass and opening new territories—the possibilities of the Red Orb are endless,” said a man in a nasally voice.

“I don’t disagree,” said Wally’s father, “but surely you can understand my skepticism. You’re asking me to invest in a myth.”

“You invest in ideas all the time. What’s an idea but a myth that just hasn’t been proven yet?”

Wally tiptoed closer to the door and peered through the gap. His parents sat with their guests around a coffee table enjoying their drinks. Wally recognized the man with whom his father was speaking instantly, for he’d been a guest at Forbes Manor regularly over the years to visit with his most important investor.

“Come now,” said O.G. Wallace, “I think we can agree that Groudon and the Red Orb are hardly the image of disruptive technology. You’re asking me to finance faith. I’ll need something more concrete to bite into.”

“How about information on the Red Orb’s current location? Would that be concrete enough for you? Take a look at these seismic readings.”

“Lavaridge Town? But Mt. Chimney is considered an active volcano. Couldn’t this simply be—”

“No,” said a hand-painted doll of a woman Wally didn’t recognize. “These readings aren’t typical. The volcano masks them, but once you know what you’re looking for, they’re impossible to ignore.”

“So, Wallace, what do you say I make you a believer?”

Wally was so entranced by the conversation he didn’t quite understand that he failed to notice Brendan coming up behind him. The hand on his shoulder startled him so badly that he went tumbling through the door into the living room, and it was only Brendan’s quick reflexes that caught him before he could face plant on the floor in front of everyone.

“Whoa, steady there,” Brendan said, contrite.

The conversation had ceased as soon as Wally came bursting in, and his parents had risen from their seats. Wallace Prime did not look pleased, and Patricia immediately rushed to Wally’s side.

“Sweet Pea, what are you doing in here? Are you all right? My goodness, you’re as cold as ice. Have you been outside?” Patricia fussed.

“I-I’m sorry, Mother.” Wally was not sure what he was apologizing for, but the force of habit spoke for him. “I was just—”

“You were just interrupting,” Classic Wallace said tightly. “Maxie, please excuse my son.”

The man with whom he’d been speaking rose from his seat and adjusted his rimless glasses. “No excuses necessary. Wally, it’s a pleasure to see you. You’ve grown.”

Wally swallowed and felt his throat clenching. He prayed he would not suffer another attack so soon and in front of all these people, or his father surely wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“And who is this young man?”

Wally flushed and remembered himself. He did his best to stand up straight, the initial shock worn off, and clenched his fists to keep them from fidgeting under that piercing stare. “Yes, sorry, this is Brendan Ozawa, my friend. Brendan, this is Maximillian von Ehr, the CEO of Team Magma.”

“Just Maxie, please. No need to be so formal among friends.” Maxie’s shrewd eyes lingered on Brendan. “Ozawa, you say? Any relation to Gym Leader Norman Ozawa?”

“My father,” Brendan said cooly, before adding: “sir.”

“You must be the Atlas skuff,” said the petite woman with Maxie. “I had heard the Petalburg Gym Leader’s son wasn’t a true Tamer.”

Wally felt Brendan stiffen beside him, and it seemed as if the very air stiffened with him. “You heard correctly,” Brendan said in a neutral tone that everyone but Wally seemed to believe.

The woman smiled enigmatically, as if pleased with herself. Maxie’s bloodless lips pressed in a thin line. “My subordinate, Courtney,” he said.

“Chief Security Officer,” Courtney corrected him. She brushed her painted fingers over the waist of her black pencil skirt, revealing three Pokéballs tucked snugly under the hem of her red blouse. “And Rock Adamantine.”

Wally tasted metal on the back of his tongue. The tension in the air was suddenly as thick as quicksand, and he dared not breathe. 

“And tonight, glorified body guard,” Maxie said smoothly. Courtney’s smile fell, but Maxie either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I should be on my way,” he added. “Thank you for your hospitality, as always. I’ll be in touch about the new venture.”

Wallace the Elder shook Maxie’s hand. “I’d like to take a closer look at those readings before I commit.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll have your answer for me in the morning.”

“You’re in a hurry, then?”

“Fortune favors the bold.”

Wally looked between Maxie and his father as an unspoken understanding passed between them. His namesake hid it well, but Wally couldn’t help but notice the pinch in the corners of his mouth.

“Courtney, make sure our transportation is ready,” Maxie said.

Courtney’s lamb’s wool eyes flashed, but she held her tongue and nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Soon, Maxie and Courtney had departed, and Brendan was not long to follow after a few choice words from Wallace the Prequel about how ‘disappointed’ he was in Wally’s atrocious manners this evening.

“Brendan wait.” Wally caught Brendan’s elbow before he could Teleport back to his apartment with Xatu. “I’m so sorry about my father and everything.”

Brendan’s face was a locked tomb as he regarded him. “Don’t worry about it. It was kinda my fault that we interrupted them, I get it. Are you going to be okay?”

“I wish you’d stay,” Wally said before he could stop himself.

The tomb cracked. “Hey, don’t worry. We can hang out again soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Ah, well, tomorrow’s an all-day shift at the diner, so…”

Wally nodded. It was always the same with Brendan and May. They were adults with busy lives, and they didn’t have time to entertain lonely high school boys. It was stupid of Wally even to ask. And selfish. It wasn’t Brendan’s fault that he didn’t have many friends his own age at school.

“Tell you what. May’s getting back tomorrow from her parents’, and maybe we can all check out a late showing at the theater downtown?”

Wally felt bad all over again. Brendan had a full day of work and very early mornings, and a movie late at night was probably the last thing he needed when he should be getting some sleep. But the offer of company chosen for pleasure over duty was too tempting to resist. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay, see you then.” He paused, then: “Hey, Wally? You sure you’re okay? Your parents’ guests tonight…”

“Oh, Maxie? I’ve known him for a long time.”

“Yeah, okay, just… I didn’t know your parents were involved with Team Magma.”

“They’re just shadow investors. We’re not active members or anything. Can’t afford to wed the Forbes name to any organization that wasn’t founded before the Gilded Age, you know.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry, forget I said anything. I’ll see you.”

Wally watched him Teleport out of existence and shuffled on heavy feet back to his room, where his Pokémon were all tucked away in their Pokéballs—house rules.

* * *

May’s sides ached from laughing so hard. Family game night always ended in stitches one way or another. Tonight, it was courtesy of June’s double blockade in Parcheesi and their father very obviously attempting to cheat by making up rules.

“You can’t pass the blockade even if you roll a double!” June argued.

“Why not? I have two pawns and double sixes! I should be able to steamroll right through you,” Mark argued back.

April, their mother, was hardly able to breathe as she waved the rule pamphlet like a fan. “Darling, you just made that up!”

“Dad, you can’t pass an impenetrable wall,” May said. “You just have to wait until she breaks it.”

Mark looked very serious as he tried to fight a smile and loomed over his eldest daughter. “Let me tell you something, May Louise Birch. Walls can be broken. It’s _science_.”

“It’s _cheating_!” June screeched.

Mark grinned so wide it took up his whole broad face, and grabbed his youngest in a bear hug. “Is it still cheating now?”

June shrieked with laughter as he tickled her with his beard mercilessly. “Let go, let go!”

They laughed and laughed together, and after the game (June won, as usual), May washed the dishes with her father.

“June said you were gone a while this time,” May said as she dried the clean dishes Mark handed to her.

“Longer than I anticipated, yeah. The Mirage Desert has been suffering torrential rains lately.”

May frowned as she set down the wine glass she’d been polishing. “Did you say ‘torrential’? In the desert?”

“I know how it sounds. The bizarre weather patterns have progressed to the point that the native Sandshrew and Sandlash have been almost completely wiped out. My team relocated the ones we could find, but the situation is dire. The rains have ceased for now, but they’ve left a wasteland in their wake. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry, Dad. This world is harsh and unfair. I wish there was something more we could do.”

He offered a clean plate to dry, but he didn’t let it go when she tried to take it.

“What?” she asked.

“It is a harsh world.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But you’re not helpless, you know. You of all people.”

“Very funny. I can’t control the weather.”

“No, but there are other things you can do.”

May resisted the juvenile urge to roll her eyes. Every time she visited her family, it usually ended the same way.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Dad. I’m just working a normal job, saving as much as I can, and trying to live my life. It’s not perfect, and I know it’s not the life you wanted for me, but it’s _my_ life.”

“I know it is. I’m not trying to tell you it isn’t. Only, well…” He sighed and went back to washing. “I just worry that I never did enough for you. That I couldn’t do more for you.”

“You’ve done more than enough. You and Mom and June, really. I’m happy.”

“Are you?”

There was something about the way he looked at her, his tranquil, grey eyes trampled with crow’s feet, that gave her pause. Was she happy?

She thought about the promises she made to herself, distant dreams that kept her going through days on her weary feet and the stench of grease and burned coffee, the bills and the burdens.

 _One day_ , she would tell herself. _One day I’ll be free._

Mark resumed his washing. “This world is harsh, but there’s so much beauty in it, too. I want you to see it, all of it. I want that for you, Birdie.”

May was transported back years ago all of a sudden, before June. She was scared and shaking stuck in a tree as her parents watched from far below, helpless to help her. Her father’s tree trunk arms reached for her, coaxing, promising.

_You can do it, Birdie._

But she was afraid. She didn’t want to fall.

_You won’t fall. May, my little lark, you were born to fly._

_Take the leap._

_Trust yourself and fly._

She jumped that day, and he caught her easily, like she was as light as the summer breeze that carried her. Effortless.

“I know you do,” she said, accepting another dish. “But it’s not that simple.”

His hand on her shoulder was warm and lovely. “It is. All you have to do is let yourself have it. It’s a part of you, after all. Just as lovely and wonderful as the rest of you.” He kissed her head, and she couldn’t help but smile as she felt his love.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He winked at her, and they finished washing the dishes in amicable silence.

* * *

Brendan had been waiting for something.

All his life he’d been waiting for something, though he could not say what. Every day was an exercise in monotony, in mediocrity. It was comfortable, innocuous, safe. It was boring as shit.

But when he overheard Wally’s parents talking to Team Magma about Red Orbs and Lavaridge Town and monsters, he felt as though a countdown had begun, clocks weighing down on him from on high, crushing and pushing and _demanding_ something. Anything at all. He didn’t know what. He only knew that he wouldn’t find it here.

So when May returned the next day after visiting her parents and mentioned the bizarre inclement weather over the Mirage Desert her father had been studying, Brendan took it as a sign and an excuse, whatever got them moving.

“Lavaridge?” May said in that derisive tone she got when she thought he said something spectacularly stupid.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious,” Brendan said as he flipped burgers on the grill.

“I’m a little bit disturbed that you were in the same house as the leader of Team Magma. You know how my dad feels about their extremist conservation efforts. They’re a bunch of whack jobs.”

“I was there too.” Wally clutched his mint chocolate chip milkshake at the diner bar.

“That’s not your fault,” May said automatically.

Brendan rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, it’s pretty damning.”

“It’s pretty preposterous, is what it is.”

“You don’t believe in them?” Wally asked. He looked around at the empty bar. A few patrons were huddled together at tables, but they weren’t paying the trio any attention. “I mean, you know…”

“Groudon and Kyogre,” Brendan said.

May shot him a dirty look. “Bedtime stories to scare children into behaving. You can’t possibly expect me to believe any of this.”

“Yeah, not unless we go check it out for ourselves. Seeing is believing.”

Wally sipped his milkshake. “My parents would never let me go.”

“Good, because you’re not going. None of us are,” May said.

“I’m going,” Brendan said. He wasn’t even really sure why he felt so strongly. Maybe it was because May was so against it. Her reluctance made it feel more real somehow, like there might be something there. Something waiting for him beyond this tired old town filled with too many bad memories.

“If you’re going, I’m going, too,” Wally said.

May looked ready to smash the coffee pot she was holding. “Absolutely _not_.”

“You should come too.” Brendan leaned over the counter separating the grill from the bar. “We’re not going without you.”

May looked around like she was embarrassed to be associated with them. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

But Brendan knew in his bones that this was right. She had to come. They both did. There was no universe in which he was destined to grow old flipping flapjacks for a living sharing a cramped one-bedroom apartment with his best friend. Fate or chance or whatever they were calling it these days, he would take it. He would take it and he wouldn’t look back.

“I agree,” Wally said, more confident. “We’ll stick together, like we always do. And with you there, May, we’ll be ready for anything—”

May shot Wally a glare that could freeze lava, and she therefore missed the similar glare Brendan shot at her. He schooled himself before she noticed.

“No,” May said. “Not like this.”

“Then how?” Brendan demanded. “What’s it going to take to convince you? You’re always saying how you want to leave, so let’s _go_.”

May looked at him, and he felt half a boy again. She had always been able to reduce him with that raw, flaying look. “You know we have to tell Norman. This is his domain, not ours.”

Wally averted his gaze. Brendan did not, but it was the hardest thing he had ever done. And worst of all, he knew she was right.

“If he says no, then I’ll go,” she said, softer, gentler. “I’ll go with you.”

Brendan angrily flipped his burgers. They were overcooking, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Brendan?” May prompted. She and Wally were both watching him, waiting.

He slid the overcooked burgers on a plate and ripped off his hairnet. “Fine, whatever. I’ll tell him.”

“We’ll tell him together.”

“No. _I’ll_ tell him.”

Which was exactly what Brendan did later that day. With May and Wally in tow as witnesses in case of his total evisceration, he found himself outside the looming, brick façade of the Petalburg Gym. There was a notice pasted to the double front doors calling for full-blooded Tamers of any affinity to inquire within about trying out for a Gym trainer position. Brendan barely resisted the urge to rip the post off and tear it to shreds.

The receptionist brightened when she saw him and told him to head inside. Norman was having tea in the solar behind the main arena after a day of punishing drills. His wife beater was dark with sweat and he had a towel around his neck as he sipped his tea. Nearby, his pot-bellied Slaking dozed on his side, snoring softly. At Brendan’s approach, the enormous gorilla sloth cracked a rheumy eye open.

“Brendan! Darling, I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

Caroline Ozawa was all blond curls and sunny smiles as she set down the water pitcher she’d been carrying and swept him into a hug.

“It was a spur of the moment decision, Mom.” Nonetheless, he hugged her back.

“Hi Mrs. Ozawa,” May greeted.

“May, hello! Oh, and you brought Wally too. How lovely to see you both. It’s been too long.” Caroline hugged each of them in turn.

Her Furret chittered and rubbed his long body against Brendan’s leg, seeking a pet. He obliged absently, but his eyes were fixed on Norman’s, who watched the scene unfold in cold silence.

While Caroline talked May’s and Wally’s ears off, Brendan approached his father. “Sir,” he said in as steady a voice as he could muster.

Norman rose from his chair like a statue coming to life. He was not a tall man, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in presence. Brendan had often been told that he was the spitting image of his imperious father, all hard lines and sinewy muscle and razor-sharp eyes, but Norman had an air about him that unsettled even beyond the physical.

“Brendan.” Norman did not move to hug Brendan, or even shake his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I have something to report to the Gym Leader.”

Norman’s gaze flickered to May and Wally, whom Caroline had herded to the other side of the solar to offer them refreshments. Always thinking ahead, his mother.

“It’s about Team Magma,” Brendan added before Norman could comment on the presence of his friends.

Norman grunted an acknowledgment and gestured for Brendan come closer. Brendan knew not to argue and followed him to the counter, where Norman refilled his empty tea cup. “Well?”

Brendan told him as succinctly as possible about what he had overheard at Wally’s last night. Norman did not so much as blink.

“You met Maximillian von Ehr?”

“Briefly. I thought you should know.”

Norman quietly sipped his tea, unhurried. Brendan clenched his fists to give them something to do while he waited on his father’s whim.

“The Dewford Gym is taking on new apprentices,” Norman said at length. “There will be tryouts, of course, but there are no prerequisites. Brawley’s been known to take on skuffs who prove themselves.”

It took all of Brendan’s willpower not to bare his teeth in his fury. “I came here to report evidence of a future imminent crime to the Gym Leader, not to ask about job openings.”

Norman didn’t bat an eyelash. “It’s a good opportunity for someone like you. With your education, you’ll be ahead of the other thralls looking for a foot in the door. Work hard enough, and you might even earn a permanent place as a Gym trainer.”

Brendan winced at the casual slur. “Are you even listening to me?” He knew he was raising his voice, but he could not help it. He never could help himself in front of his father. “Team Magma’s going to Lavaridge Town, and they’re not going to let anyone stand in their way. You know their methods. People could get hurt.”

Norman finished his tea and led Brendan back to the table. “In any case, I’ve already spoken with Brawley, and he’s graciously agreed to take you on considering your pedigree. I was going to send for you later this week, but since you’re here now, you’ve saved me the trouble.”

Brendan slammed his fist on the table. Norman’s teacup rattled and spilled. “Goddamnit, just _listen to me_ for one minute.”

The commotion drew Slaking’s attention, and he stared at Brendan. One word from Norman, and the brutish Pokémon would be on his feet swinging. Brendan had seen it many times before, felt those meaty fists many times before on this body too weak to match blows but too Atlas-hardy to buckle under them. Like a green bitch, he flinched. It was his worst mistake.

Norman seized him by the scruff of his shirt and jostled him like a rag doll. Though they were of a size now that Brendan was older, Norman’s strength was unmatched. The power of an Atlas knew no equal in terms of brute strength just like the hardy Normal-type Pokémon they affiliated with, and the king brute himself would never let Brendan forget it.

“I don’t like your tone, boy,” Norman said in a voice that promised more than this cute jostling.

Brendan forced himself to go lax in Norman’s grip. Fighting back was and always would be a useless endeavor. But there were other ways to get through to his father. “And I don’t like asking for your help, but it’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do.” Norman spat the words like a curse.

“Brendan!” May dashed to his side. “What’s going on here?”

Brendan ignored her. No way was he giving Norman a new target. “That’s right. I’ve said my piece, so now it’s up to you. You’re the Gym Leader here; your word is law. What’ll it be?”

Norman watched him a moment longer, and then roughly released him. Wally caught him stumbling back, but thankfully said nothing. “Don’t presume to tell me how to do my job.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You know exactly what you were doing. That clever tongue of yours is like to piss off the wrong person one of these days. Not everyone will be as charitable with you as I am.”

Caroline touched her husband’s shoulder. “Dear, can I get you something to eat?”

Norman took her wrist hard enough to hurt anybody else, but Caroline did not flinch as Brendan had. Unlike her thin-blooded son, she could match Norman’s strength as his equal. The sight only boiled Brendan’s blood even more.

Norman seemed to calm down a bit under Caroline’s firm grip. He glared black bile at Brendan and his friends. “Team Magma is not my concern, nor is it yours. They’re not a shady criminal enterprise no matter what you think about their leader’s bizarre personal proclivities. Groudon and the Red Orb are nothing but an old wive’s tale, as you well know. I’m surprised you would even indulge such a vapid fantasy. I would think you were too busy slaving away at that grease factory to have time to entertain conspiracy theories.”

Wally gasped. “But Mr. Ozawa, I was there, too. Maxie really seemed to believe it was real. I think that matters more than whether it actually is real, don’t you agree?”

Brendan was already moving to put himself in between Wally and his mercurial father. “So that’s a no, then? You’re not going to do anything about this.”

Norman’s pitiless eyes lingered briefly on Wally, and Brendan quickly weighed the pros and cons of engaging him in a fist fight to draw his attention back. Luckily, or not, Norman soon forgot about Wally entirely.

“In that case, we should be on our way,” May said. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do, sir.”

Brendan shot her a look that he hoped conveyed his extreme annoyance with her intervening, but May didn’t notice.

“Oh no, I wish you would all stay for dinner,” Caroline said. “You only just got here…”

“We’d love to, but I’m afraid the grease factory doesn’t run itself.” May smiled politely. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Norman curled his lip in disgust. “I don’t like you working there, both of you.”

“It’s just a job,” Brendan said.

“If it’s just a job, then you can easily get another one. You as well, May. The Dewford Gym would welcome a Caelifera to their ranks.”

Brendan bristled at that word.

_Caelifera._

“This Gym as well, if you prefer to remain local. I’ve told you before, your talents would find a worthwhile home here.”

Brendan had an ugly thought then that perhaps this was Norman’s endgame all along. Not his own diluted disappointment of a son, but the unclaimed Flying-type Tamer he’d brought in range of Norman’s rapacious event horizon. After all these years, he thought he’d be over it, but his father’s favor was acid in an old wound that never healed and probably never would as long as he kept coming back here hoping for a different outcome.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m happy where I am,” May said coolly.

Brendan snatched May’s wrist in one hand and Wally’s in the other. “We’re leaving. Mom,” he nodded to Caroline, who did nothing to hide her disappointment at seeing them leave. “…Dad.”

“Think about my offer,” Norman called. “It’s not too late for you, but it will be soon.”

Brendan stormed out of the Gym, turned back briefly to rip the Gym trainer ad off the door, and shredded it in a paroxysm. Without a care for the litter, he stalked down the wooded, gravel road back toward town.

Wally’s light jogging caught up to him first. “Brendan, are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“It’s all right if you’re not—”

“I said I’m fine!”

May grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, you need to calm down.”

Her blue eyes were hard and unyielding as she glared at him and put herself in between Wally and him, just as Brendan had shielded them from Norman. The shame crept up on him like a Seviper in the grass, and he felt its fangs bone-deep. Growling, Brendan pulled out of her flimsy grasp. Her strength was nothing compared to Norman’s, after all.

“I never wanted to come here,” he said.

“I know, but it’s done. We did what we could and no one can say otherwise.”

Brendan closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a couple seconds, willing himself to calm. “I can’t believe he tried to ship me off to Dewford.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t. You’re not under his control anymore.”

Brendan peered at her. A weak, self-loathing part of him wondered what she really thought. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Gym trainers make enough to put you in the next tax bracket. It’s a tempting offer.”

May’s eyes flashed. “Never. I can’t believe you would even ask me that.”

 _But you’re just like him,_ he wanted to scream at her.

But he didn’t, because no matter how strong Norman was, Brendan and May’s bond was stronger. It was enough to make him forget what she really was.

“You know I don’t care about any of that,” May said. “That word… It’s just a word. It means nothing to me.”

Wally watched them with wide, green eyes as he clutched the straps of his backpack. Always watching, that Wally. Brendan tried not to wonder what he saw when he watched them like that.

“I know,” Brendan said at length, exhausted. “I’m sorry, I just…”

May touched his shoulder. “I know.”

“So we tried to get your dad to intervene,” Wally said. “And he said no. So that means…?”

Brendan set his jaw. “It means it’s up to us.”

May looked like she might protest, but she did not.“You know this means we’ll have to turn in our notices. No way Joe’ll let us both take a vacation at the same time, or ever, really.”

Brendan turned on his heel and headed back to town. “I already did at the end of our shift today.”

He could feel her irritation without looking back at that sour face she was so fond of pulling when he displeased her.

“You little shit. And what if your dad had agreed?”

“He didn’t.”

He would not have. Brendan knew his father. As “charitable” as he was with Brendan, he was not so with anyone else. Not unless it would further polish his reputation.

“When do we leave?” Wally asked, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

They rounded the corner and dumped out on the paved street that cut through downtown. Stone buildings rose above them, fingers grasping at the encroaching twilight. The sounds of the city were a clamorous din rising like the tide the closer they got.

“First light,” Brendan said. “Better pack sparingly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a lot of Wallaces. And before you ask, dad!Norman was a bag of hot garbage in canon and he continues to be trash here. Maybe we'll get some nuance for him later on, but he's still gonna be trash. Anyway, next stop, Lavaridge and resident HBIC Flannery, hell yes!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked the Bulbapedia shipping master list for y’all to be super legit here, and now I give you PineappleShipping. I honestly do not know how we got here, but I’m really happy about it.

It was a warm night, but Flannery Choi had a hankering to visit the local hot springs, anyway. No matter how warm the weather, the near-boiling water always left her feeling rejuvenated and ready to face what lay ahead.

She was alone in the spacious hot springs tonight. Most would not be bothered to sweat and puff in the hot water on such a balmy night. Which was fine with Flannery; she preferred the time alone with her thoughts. Sighing, she dabbed at her face with a towel. She’d tied her long red hair back in a topknot to keep it dry, but the steam was dampening it despite her best efforts. Nude and submerged to her shoulders under the light of the half moon, she did her best to still against the slick lava rock and relax her sore muscles.

It had been another hard day training with her Pokémon at the Lavaridge Gym. Her grandfather, Daewon, was old and hunchbacked these days, but he still commanded respect and even fear in his position as Gym Leader. Ages ago, he had been a founding member of the Hoenn Elite Four, but those fiery days of his youth were long behind him. Flannery, however, was just beginning to dabble in hers.

“Would you commend a bird and condemn a fish merely because the one can fly?” he had asked her on her knees.

She had been at her limit, her jeans burned and charred from the scrimmage and her muscles screaming for relief. And still she resisted. Still she refused.

Daewon had merely looked down at her with quiet understanding. Not pity, never pity. He loved her too much to pity her. “Just because we are awed by those who soar above us, we have no reason to dismiss those who dive below us. To do so is to dismiss an entire world, rich and beautiful and strong in its own way.” He’d looked at her harshly then, unflinching and unforgiving, and she was filled with shame. “The fish may never fly, but she will never drown, either.”

“Easy for you to say,” Flannery muttered to herself.

Daewon was a true-blooded Ignifer, after all; she was just a skuff.

As soon as she let herself entertain that foul thought, she was shamed anew. He would be disappointed to know she was wallowing in self-pity. It was beneath her. She was a Choi, the latest in a long line of proud Ignifers and Ignifer skuffs who had founded this old town centuries ago. Her family’s blood flowed in the deep aquifers that connected the hot springs, in the earth that fed the leafy trees, in the smoke that rose from the Hearth of the Undying kindled from the mythical Pokémon Heatran’s fire. Flannery was not _just_ anything.

Splashing startled her, and she reached for Torkoal’s Pokéball sitting a few inches from her resting head. Through the moonlit gloom, she recognized the figure. “This is the women’s bath, you pervert.”

Her voyeur laughed. It was a pleasant, pretty laugh, the kind a girl liked to hear in secret places away from prying eyes. “Couldn’t read the sign in the dark. My bad.”

Buck’s nude form slipped beneath the dark, steaming water just past his narrow hip bones as he waded toward her. Flannery’s dark eyes were drawn to his lean abs glistening with the steam that rose around him, but she forced herself to look away. She would not let him see the effect he had on her when he hadn’t even put in any effort.

He crept closer and set his own Pokéballs on the stone next to hers. The water sloshed her shoulders as he invaded her personal space but did not touch her. He didn’t need to. This close and she could feel his heat in the air they shared.

“Flannery,” Buck said softly, his breath warm against her cheek.

Flannery bit her lip. She was so weak, but hell, no one was here to see it, so why resist? “Moron,” she murmured just shy of his lips.

He’d tied back his too-long red hair in a messy top knot. This too was effortless. Wisps of it fell into his dark eyes, smoldering. Everything about him was dark and smoldering tonight, even his touch. Especially his touch.

He touched her shoulder, and her skin smoked along the path his fingers traced. As an Ignifera skuff, Flannery was kindling under a true-blooded Ignifer’s touch, and Buck made her want to burn like no one did. He smiled against her lips, his breath hot as it mingled with hers.

“Missed you today,” he said.

“I was training. You know, being useful.”

He chuckled. “I train. Your gramps is just more interested in you than me. Not that I blame him.” He snaked a burning hand around her thigh and pulled her onto his lap.

“Don’t talk about him when we’re together. It’s really inappropriate.”

On his lap, he had an excellent view of her chest. He pressed a searing kiss to her skin, soft lips and sensual teeth. “He’d murder me if he knew.”

Flannery bit her lip to stifle a moan even as she arched against his mouth. “He would not. He likes you—ah!”

Buck bit down on her, the mixture of pain and heat sending a crescendo of pleasure to her core like lightning. “He’d disembowel me. You’re his princess, and I’m just some asshole from Sinnoh passing through. You deserve better.”

He said this even as he trailed his fingers in between her thighs to give her even more of his heat and draw out her own.

“Bullshit,” she panted, pressing closer. “You said you’d leave weeks ago, but you haven’t. I wonder why?”

Even in the dim moonlight, she could see his flush that had nothing to do with the heat of the hot spring. Bold, she pushed back against his broad shoulders and straddled him properly. There was something gorgeously delicious about looming over him like this. The magnificent bird brought down low, eager to drown just for a moment with her.

“I guess I can’t leave you,” he said, already drowned.

“Try again.”

He squeezed her hips in a bruising grip and pulled her as close as she could be. Flannery whimpered. No matter how many times they were together, she was always intrigued by how much he desired her, by how much power he let her keep over him. In his arms, she felt as if she, too, might fly.

“I never want to leave you. Flannery, I— _fuck_.”

Buck jerked at her sudden punishing pressure, and something raw and animalistic emerged from behind those burning eyes, just the way she liked. Searing lips swallowed her pleasure as he kissed her mercilessly.

She gasped for breath amidst the hazy steam and his arms pinning her against the black rock. Her hands pulled at his nape, wetting them both, but neither cared as they enjoyed this moment alone in the world together.

Slick with lava water and their lovemaking, Flannery sucked in a deep breath as she enjoyed the soft afterglow of him. He kissed her long and deep, the kind of kiss that made her toes curl. There was a promise in that kiss, as beautiful as it was fragile.

“Hey,” she said when they came up for air.

Dark eyes watched her as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t, please. Don’t push me away.”

She bit her lip. She had the sudden urge to hide her face, though no tears threatened to fall. She gave in to the urge and buried her nose in his neck, pulled him close like he wanted. He smelled like sweat and the night and her, and she wanted to remember it when he was gone.

A strange rumbling reached them, as though the ground were waking from a deep slumber. Flannery had never heard its like before, and she stilled to listen. Buck’s lingering desire for her instantly melted into the hard, focused discipline Daewon had acknowledged when he accepted Buck as a temporary Gym trainer and acolyte.

“Where did it come from?” he asked, his voice low and serious even as he cradled her body to his.

“I don’t know. South, I think.”

Shouts, abruptly silenced. That had been a hell of a lot closer than before. Silent, the lovers parted and got out of the water as footsteps approached, fast and light. Flannery retreated to the shadows under a tree, vulnerable in her nakedness but with no time to prepare. Buck ran toward the hot spring’s curtained entryway and concealed himself next to the door to wait.

Three people soon emerged through the curtain clad in Brigandine model combat armor. They wielded blades and steel bats, as well as Pokéballs clipped to their belts. Buck waited until they had all filtered into the steamy hot spring and lunged at the man in back. To his credit, he was as quiet as a Mienshao when he strangled the guy. His Ignifer’s palms smoked as they literally burned through armor to get at the vulnerable neck beneath.

“What the—did you hear something?” one of the two remaining goons said.

Flannery was light on her feet as she dashed at the guy in front while his partner’s back was turned. She tackled him full-body and plunged with him into the hot spring. The guy struggled, but she had him from behind and forced his head underwater.

“Shit!”

Flannery whipped around in time to see the third guy coming at her. He had a Linoone, and the beast leaped at her. It didn’t make it two feet before Buck’s Infernape Close Combatted it clear across the pool into a pile of lava rock. Linoone did not get up.

It trainer went after Buck, who dropped the strangled guy and met the remaining enemy blow for naked blow. Flannery growled and shoved her man deeper into the water. He soon stopped thrashing and fell still beneath her thighs.

When she and Infernape joined Buck’s fight, the enemy had just enough time to slice a chunk out of Buck’s bicep before Flannery kicked in his knees. Infernape screeched at the scent of his Tamer’s blood and very efficiently Mach Punched the enemy’s face into the ground. It was all over in a matter of minutes.

“You’re hurt.” Flannery moved to Buck’s side. He was clutching his bleeding bicep.

“I’m fine. It’s a clean cut. We need to get out of here before more show up.”

Flannery checked the dead guy’s pockets for anything of use but found nothing. His uniform was embroidered with a red letter “M" emblem over his breast. It was stylized in the shape of a mountain range. She recognized the minimalist badge. “Team Magma? I don’t understand, why would they do this?”

“Those vegan hacks?” Buck said.

Flannery shot him a dirty look. “They’re not hacks. They’ve done a lot of good to cut back on corporate dumping.” She bit her lip, and then: “They can be a bit overzealous in their methods, though. There are rumors…”

Buck scoffed. “There’s always fucking rumors when mass ideologies are involved. They’re usually true. Just look at what happened in Unova with Neo Team Plasma.”

“We need to find Grandpa.”

“Agreed. But we’re gonna need some clothes. Infernape, let’s go.”

They gathered their Pokéballs and hastily donned a pair of starchy, navy bath robes. Buck used a clean towel to tie off his arm and stem the bleeding. When they were dressed, Flannery released her Ninetales. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s get to the Gym.”

No sooner had they exited the hot springs than an explosion rocked the downtown and fire washed out the night sky. Flannery gasped in terror watching the fire rise. “The Gym!”

“Flannery, wait—”

But she didn’t hear Buck as she took off sprinting toward the burning building, Ninetales hot on her heels. “Grandpa!”

The Gym and the surrounding homes and buildings were aflame. People ran screaming and shouting. It was chaos. Flannery caught up to a Gym trainer she recognized—Shoji—just as the kid released his Koffing.

“Poison Gas!” Shoji commanded.

Koffing exploded with a cloud of noxious, purple fumes as Shoji darted away, and his attacker choked and collapsed to her knees. The attacker’s Lucario, however, was impervious to the poison and lunged at Shoji with a deadly Metal Claw.

“Flamethrower!” Flannery commanded.

Ninetales leaped onto the scene with a molten stream of orange fire, burning Lucario and sending him fleeing.

“Flannery,” he coughed. “I’m sorry, I-I tried to fight them off.”

Flannery fell upon Shoji and helped him stand. “It’s okay, you did your best. Where’s Grandpa?”

Shoji wiped the soot from his cheek. His eyes were watering. He was just a young boy, barely fifteen. “Inside, I think. He was fighting.” He sniffled. “I-I ran, like he told me to…”

“Flannery!” Buck and Infernape caught up to them. His hand was hot on the small of her back.

“Grandpa’s inside,” she said grimly. “We have to help him!”

Buck glared at the squat Gym. “I’m right behind you.”

“Wait!” Shoji said, trembling. “Those people, Team Magma, they said something about the Hearth of the Undying. They said something’s hidden there.” Shoji clutched Flannery’s robe, his bright eyes glassy with tears. “What’s hidden there?”

Flannery paled. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

“What’s he talking about?” Buck asked.

Flannery shook her head and pried Shoji off. “Never mind. We have to find Grandpa.”

They left Shoji and Koffing to get to safety while they approached the burning Gym. Pennons of fire whipped and scorched stone and wood and glass alike. Flannery saw her opening and knew she would have no other chance.

“Torkoal, go!”

Flannery’s Torkoal was nearly as tall as she was at the apex of his scarred shell, and he sheltered her from the worst of the falling, fiery debris as she pushed her way inside the conflagration. Ninetales, Buck, and Infernape huddled close to her, and Buck forced her head down with a firm grip on her neck to keep her from inhaling too much smoke.

“We can’t stay in here for long!” he shouted to be heard over the roaring fire.

“Then we better find Grandpa quick!”

Flannery coughed violently as they proceeded deeper into the burning building. She saw what she thought were the charred remains of human bodies slumped against the burning walls, but it was hard to tell through the smoke and shimmering heat. She tried not to think about it and pressed onward. Embers fell upon their group from above, a few landing on Flannery herself. They bit through her bath robe, but did not burn her skin too badly. She didn’t have Buck’s burning Ignifer touch, but there were some perks to being an Ignifera skuff stuck in a burning building, at least.

The main Gym arena was mostly earth and water and not on fire, blessedly. In the center of it all she saw Daewon and his Typhlosion struggling against a woman dressed in Magma red and black and her Magcargo. Daewon was on his knees and clutching his middle. Blood ran from his chin.

“Your resistance is futile,” the Magma woman taunted. “By now, my team already has the Red Orb in their possession!”

“Then I will stop you,” Daewon said in a booming voice much larger than he was. “Typhlosion, Flame Wheel!”

“Ancient Power!” the Magma woman commanded.

Magcargo’s lava-hardened shell glowed yellow and launched a hail of rock shards at Typhlosion and Daewon. Typhlosion roared, already bleeding from a deep gash in his fur, but he caught fire and moved to shield his master.

Flannery had seen more than enough. “Torkoal, melt that Magcargo!”

Torkoal lumbered forward, his shell’s vents steaming with pent-up heat. They burst in a violent Lava Plume attack, rocketing molten magma at Magcargo and his trainer. The Magma woman saw it coming and flipped to safety, but Magcargo was buried in lava. Flannery knew it wouldn’t be enough to kill the giant snail beast, but at least it had ceased the Ancient Power and bought Typhlosion and Daewon some time.

“Flannery!” Daewon cried, his voice broken up by a coughing fit. “Get out of here!”

But Flannery was already rushing the Magma woman with Ninetales. Honey eyes alighted on her, eerily calm, like facing a painted china doll. She didn’t try to evade Flannery’s wild punch at all, and Flannery soon understood why.

It was like hitting a brick wall. Her knuckles cracked and she screamed in pain even as the woman’s head snapped around, but it was clear that she was unharmed.

 _A Tamer!_ Flannery thought, hear heart racing. _But what, Atlas? Adamantine?_

A cruel smirk painted the Magma woman’s elfin features as she turned on Flannery and reeled back a punch of her own. Flannery clenched her gut for what was sure to hurt like a bitch and a half, but suddenly Buck was there. With a shout, he sank his burning hands into the woman’s shoulder and punching arm. They toppled to the ground together, Buck’s hands smoking where they made contact, but the woman roughly shoved him off. Her sleeves were burned through, but her skin was pink and intact, barely blistered.

The Magma woman broke into a heady grin that made Flannery’s skin crawl. “You’ll have to do better than that, Firecracker.”

A burning rafter fell from the fast-deteriorating roof and landed in between Flannery and the woman. Separated by fire, the woman continued to smile as she drew another Pokéball from her belt.

“Perhaps next time,” she said, blowing a kiss.

A hulking Golem appeared in the light from her Pokéball, and on her command, he Bulldozed through a burning wall and opened up an exit path. Buck was helping Daewon to his feet; the old man was coughing violently.

“Buck, she’s getting away!” Flannery spat.

“Infernape, stop that Golem!” Buck commanded.

Infernape took off in a blaze of cinders and Karate Chopped Golem as he ambled back to his trainer. Golem roared in pain, and chunks of his shale armor crumbled under Infernape’s merciless attack. The woman didn’t wait around and recalled both her injured Pokémon as she dashed to escape. Flannery was not about to let her. “Ninetales, let’s go!”

The nine-tailed fox was faster than she was and sprinted after the fleeing Magma agent. A burning beam fell from the ceiling and landed on Flannery as she ran, knocking her down. She cried out and clutched her broken hand to her chest, the pain elemental. The heat of the fallen beam was blinding on her back, but something lifted it away.

“Get up!” Buck shouted as he tossed the beam off her with his bare hands, impervious to the fire’s bite. “Infernape’s got the old man, so move!”

Flannery didn’t need to be told twice. Together they ran after the Magma agent and Ninetales.

Outside, more Magma agents were running around with their Pokémon. The Hearth of the Undying had been completely desecrated, its eternal flame a trickle of its former glory having been destroyed and cast aside so that bulky Rock- and Ground-type Pokémon could dig beneath its shrine. Nincada, dormant in their thick husks as they waited for their thirteen-year-long hibernation to pass, lay half submerged in the ground like so many pale, bloated corpses unearthed in a mass grave robbery. By the time Flannery and Buck made it out, the damage was long done. They spotted the Magma woman they had tailed accepting a large, round item wrapped in dark leather. Flannery saw red.

“No! Ninetales, use Fire Blast!” she commanded.

Ninetales howled, her many enchanted tails billowing with power and heat. Her Fire Blast was a thing of beauty, phantom blue and ribbon-like as it blasted through the gathered Magma agents and scattered them. Some caught fire and screamed. But the one Flannery was after was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?” Buck shouted.

Out of nowhere, a thick jet of water blasted through the burning Magma agents, both saving them and knocking them down. A hardy Marshtomp wavered on her broad, webbed paws, as though the attack had taken too much out of her. Her trainer, a young man with harsh, narrow eyes beneath a soot-streaked, white beanie, was supernaturally calm and poised in the face of all the chaos surrounding him. He caught her eye.

“Did you see where it went?” he demanded in a voice deeper than she would have expected for his short, lean frame. “The Red Orb, it was just here.”

Flannery gaped at him. “How the hell do you know about that? Who are you?”

His fierce glare could have petrified smoke. “I’m Brendan. This isn’t the time for questions, just tell me where they took it before it’s too late!”

A rush of wind blasted them, and Flannery, Buck, and Brendan looked up to see a Swellow carrying the Magma woman. She had her stolen bounty tucked under her arm, and she briefly locked eyes with Flannery.

“No!” Flannery shouted, running after Swellow in vain.

Unbidden, Daewon’s wisdom came back to haunt her, and she hated herself and this whole fucked situation all the more. Birds may drown, but when they flew, they were free. Flannery could do nothing but watch, helpless.

Swellow squawked in surprise all of a sudden as a woman swooped in from above on a Toucannon and leaped down onto Swellow’s back, utterly fearless. There was a tense moment when the two women wrestled on Swellow’s back, and soon they were falling.

“Holy shit!” Buck said.

Flannery saw it too. The unknown assailant rode the very air as she wrestled the Magma agent in a controlled fall, stepping as if upon invisible surfaces. Until Toucannon caught up to them in a dive bomb and they crash-landed back at the hot springs.

“Oh no, _May_!” Brendan shouted, stricken.

“They fell this way! Come on!” Flannery yanked Brendan along with her good hand.

He came without a fuss, and the three of them sprinted to the hot springs. The wooden fence around the natural pools was smashed where May, the Magma agent, and Toucannon had crashed through.

“May, where are you?” Brendan shouted.

Drenched and steaming, May climbed out of the hot spring that had broken her fall. She bled from a cut on her cheek, but was otherwise unharmed.“I’m okay.”

Brendan pulled her into a hug, trembling something awful. “Thank god.”

Flannery and Buck were more concerned with the fallen Magma agent. She groaned where she’d landed against a cracked lava rock, bleeding everywhere. Buck hauled her up by her hair.

“A Rock Adamantine,” he hissed in her face. “Shoulda known.”

The woman, half dazed with one eye swollen shut, nonetheless grinned. “Firecracker, hah, you tickle.”

He threw her down in a rage, and Flannery approached. Now that the rush of battle had subsided, the pain in her wrist and back were throbbing. Sweat glistened on her forehead and plastered her red bangs to her skin. Even so, she swallowed her agony and stood tall. “Who are you? What have you done with the Red Orb?”

“She’s Courtney,” Brendan said grimly. “I recognize her. She’s Maxie’s right hand.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here, little skuff,” Courtney spat, wiping blood and soot from her cheek. “Lucky you brought your Caelifera pet along, or I’d be long gone by now.”

Before anyone could stop it, Brendan picked up a chunk of lava rock and smacked Courtney in the face with it. Flannery flinched at the sickening crack it made. “Say that again. I could do this all night.”

Flannery kneeled down and grabbed Courtney by her twice-abused hair. “Where is the Red Orb? Tell me, or I’ll happily leave you with Brendan all night.”

Courtney bared her bloody teeth in a bloody grin. “Long gone, I’m afraid. By now, Solrock’s handed it off to Maxie. They’re both far and away from here. Too bad, so sad…for _you_.”

Flannery released a strangled, frustrated breath. She shoved Courtney down as hard as she could, but it did little to rattle her. Rock Adamantines were as hard as stone.

“May, Brendan!”

A teenaged boy who looked like he might be snapped in half by a strong wind jogged to catch up to them alongside two uniformed Lavaridge policemen. An eerie Kirlia floated by his side.

“Wally, I told you to stay put,” May said.

“Sorry, but I saw you falling and I had to make sure you were okay! That was amazing, by the way. What you did, I mean, catching Courtney like that right out of the sky.”

May flushed. “It was nothing anybody else couldn’t do. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

While everyone was looking at Wally, Brendan’s razor-blade eyes were trained on May and May alone.

“Officers, arrest this woman. Be careful, she’s a Rock Adamantine,” Flannery ordered.

“Ma’am,” one of the officers said. “Team Magma was behind this, then?”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “They burned down the Gym and tried to kill old man Daewon.”

Courtney, despite her situation, laughed. “You pathetic fools. This won’t help you at all.”

Flannery glared at her. “Yeah? Well, it’ll make me feel better to see you behind bars, asshole. Take her away.”

The police officers did, and soon Flannery and Buck were left with the three strangers who had shown up out of nowhere to help.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I should thank you for your help,” Flannery said. “Without you, we wouldn’t have apprehended Courtney.”

“We didn’t get the Red Orb,” Brendan said, fists clenched. “We failed.”

Wally put a hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could.”

“Hey, the kid’s right,” Buck said. “Don’t beat yourself up, man. You did enough, seriously.”

Brendan didn’t look convinced.

“Who are you guys?” May asked.

“This is Buck, and I’m Flannery,” Flannery said. “And I guess…I’m acting Gym Leader until my grandpa recovers.”

Brendan tensed. “The Gym Leader? Then you have to listen to us.”

“Why’s that?”

Brendan’s face pinched like he was trying to pass an especially tough turd. “The Red Orb that Team Magma took—we have to get it back.”

“Yeah, obviously we do,” Buck said. To Flannery he whispered, “So, uh, what’s this Red Orb thing?”

“It’s supposed to be the way to summon Groudon, the legendary Earth Spirit,” May said. “That’s why we came here, to warn the Gym Leader.”

“About what?” Flannery demanded. But in her bones, she knew what May was going to say, what it meant. She had been raised on these stories, these myths passed down for generations to entertain, to educate, and to warn.

“It’s Team Magma,” May said. “They’re going to try to summon Groudon for real. And they’re going to use the Red Orb to do it.”

* * *

May did her part to help with the cleanup after Team Magma’s sudden and violent attack on Lavaridge Town. It was tiring work clearing out the charred remains of the buildings that had burned down, but she found it oddly calming. She had always been better with her hands than with her words, and manual labor involved minimal conversation.

Her Pokémon helped, too. Tropius was put to work erecting a new foundation for the ruined shell of the Lavaridge Gym, while Flannery’s Torkoal and Ninetales welded the metal in place with their fire. Blaziken helped Buck’s Infernape carry heavy foundation stones to the site. The two Fire-types were wary of each other, but they completed their task in relative peace under the watchful eyes of their trainers.

“I’ve never met a more chill Blaziken than yours,” Buck said as they took a short water break. His ochre arms glistened with sweat. Standing this close to him, May could feel the heat he naturally radiated. His proximity was kind of uncomfortable in the sweltering summer sun. Her throat constricted, thirsty for something cool.

“He’s always been like that,” May said.

“Makes sense, I guess. You being Caelifera and all.”

May stiffened. She knew Brendan was not around, but she looked for him all the same. She drained the remains of her water bottle and got up. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just the heat getting to me is all.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press her. “Uh-huh.”

May threw herself back into the work, and thankfully Buck didn’t mention her Tamer class again. At the end of the day, she headed back to the small inn where she, Brendan, and Wally were renting a room to shower and change before dinner. Flannery had invited the three of them to her home.

When she arrived at Flannery’s later, two police officers were on their way out. May nodded politely to them and joined Brendan and Wally.

“Hi May, you made it,” Wally said, genuinely happy to see her.

“Hey, yeah.”

Unlike Brendan and herself, Wally had not actively participated in the cleanup labor today. His severe asthma made too much physical exertion dangerous. Instead, he’d helped at the local clinic, assisting the doctors and nurses tending to those wounded in the attack.

“So what was that about?” May asked once everyone had gathered at the outdoor picnic table for the hearty meal Buck and Flannery had prepared. “With the police, I mean.”

“Nothing new,” Flannery said, troubled as she scratched the bandages covering her broken hand. She had barely touched her food. “Courtney isn’t saying anything at all.”

May didn’t really hear what Brendan and Flannery were talking about as her thoughts wandered to Courtney and how this whole mess had begun. A few days gone, that was what this was supposed to be. They were just supposed to warn the Lavaridge Gym Leader about what Wally and Brendan had overheard about the Red Orb, and then they would leave it up to the authorities. But now that Team Magma had beaten them to the punch and carried out their plan with a level of brutality none of them had anticipated, May was at a loss. All she could do was stare in horror when they flew in to Lavaridge and found it ablaze and under attack.

Until she heard Brendan shouting, saw Courtney escaping, and her body moved without thinking. The wind, gravity, the stench of smoke, it was a blur she did not quite understand, only…

Only one minute she was dive bombing with Toucannon, and the next she was free-falling, tumbling and turning and _moving_ in a way people are not supposed to move in a free fall. As though the wind and gravity were hers to push and pull, not the other way around.

“…didn’t get much out of Courtney when they questioned her,” Brendan was saying. “Pretty sure she’s not going to say anything about Team Magma’s plans.”

May sipped her drink and tried harder to listen to the conversation happening outside of her head.

“Maybe she’ll be more forthcoming when Grandpa questions her,” Flannery said, frowning deeply at her plate of food.

“Hold on,” Buck said. “So you three came here to warn us about Team Magma’s attack?”

“Yeah,” Wally said. “Maxie was talking to my parents about the Red Orb, saying he wanted their investment.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” Flannery said. “No one is supposed to know about the Red Orb, much less where to actually find it. The only people who knew about it are me and Grandpa.”

“Well, someone must’ve found out,” Brendan said. “Maxie and Courtney seemed to know all about it.”

“Okay, wait.” Buck waved his spoon at May and Brendan. “You guys keep talking about this orb thing like I’m supposed to know what that means. What is it? Why’s it such a big deal?”

Flannery picked at her bandaged hand. “It’s a big deal because my family’s been guarding it for generations, as far back as anyone can remember.”

“Why? What’s so special about it?”

“You wouldn’t believe it even if I told you.”

“It doesn’t matter what any of us believes,” Wally said. “Team Magma believes it.”

“Yeah, and they’re willing to kill for it, clearly,” Brendan said.

“I guess you’re right about that.” Flannery let out an exasperated breath. “This is so messed up.”

“The Red Orb is a children’s story,” May said. “The tale goes that a monster sleeps buried deep in the Earth, and once every thousand years or so, it opens its bloody eye to find the children who’ve misbehaved.” She recalled hearing the chilling tale in school, where kids would tease and taunt each other with threats of the monster coming to eat them. “They say when the moon is red, it’s the monster stirring, searching for bad children to devour. So long as it doesn’t find any, it’ll stay sleeping.”

Buck’s expression was unreadable as he held her gaze. There was indeed something chilling about the old tale, fable that it was, like the words themselves were spelled with some ancient magic that might awaken if spoken too loudly.

“Groudon,” Flannery said. “It’s a super-ancient Pokémon said to have lived millennia ago. That fable is one of many about it.” She cast May a thoughtful glance. “That’s only half the story, though. The rest goes on to tell about the blood moon swelling, overflowing until it bursts, and its tears flood the seas. They rise with the monster, and they drown the world.”

“Sounds cataclysmic,” Buck said.

“Because it is. It’s the tale of Groudon and Kyogre, and how they’re destined to destroy the world when they clash. The Red Orb is said to hold Groudon’s soul. It’s what my family has guarded in secret all this time.”

“And now Team Magma has it,” May said. “What are they doing? Do they think they can wake up Groudon or something? Is that even possible?”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s possible,” Brendan said. “What matters is that Team Magma’s now a full-blown criminal organization willing to kill to get what they want. They have to be stopped.”

“No argument there,” Flannery said. “Is that what you’re going to do, then?”

Wally paled. “You mean, stop Team Magma?”

“You came here to warn me. Well, consider me extremely fucking warned. So what are you going to do about it now?”

Brendan set down his fork with finality. “I mean, I assumed the police would get involved.”

“We also assumed your dad would get involved,” Wally said in a small voice. Kecleon blushed crimson on his shoulders.

“Yeah, well, he’s not, to the surprise of absolutely no one.”

“I think you should alert Ever Grande,” Buck said. “A national threat like Team Magma should be challenged at the very top.”

“This isn’t Sinnoh,” Flannery said. “We don’t kneel to an imperatrix.”

“But you worship a champion. It’s literally his job to keep the peace.” Then, to Brendan: “You want to make your Gym Leader dad help? Get the Champion to pay him a personal house call.”

Brendan pursed his lips tighter than a cat’s asshole. “Right, because I’m best buds with Steven Stone and it’s completely realistic that he’d show up at my front door to shoot the breeze.”

“Anyway, he’s missing,” May said. “Steven Stone, I mean.”

“Yeah, I heard about that on the news,” Flannery said. “Something about how he hasn’t made any scheduled public appearances for a while. Grandpa was kind of upset when we found out.”

“Okay, so the Champion’s on vacation. That still leaves the rest of your Elite Four,” Buck said.

“Look, I don’t know how they do it in Sinnoh, but here people don’t just _know_ the Elite Four,” Brendan said.

“Grandpa does,” Flannery said. “So would Norman, being a Gym Leader.” She picked at her bandages as she mused. “Maybe I could try contacting them in Grandpa’s name.”

“Now _that_ sounds like a plan,” Buck said.

“Even if they don’t believe me about the Red Orb, the attack on Lavaridge should be enough to open an investigation into Team Magma. We have more than enough witnesses.”

“And how long would that take?” Brendan asked. “What if Team Magma goes and attacks some other city next? They have to be stopped _now_.”

“Maybe we should go back to Petalburg and talk to Mr. Owaza again,” Wally said. “Things are different now. Maybe he’d believe us now if we explained things?”

May didn’t have to read Brendan’s mind to know he would sooner drink Mudsdale piss than go crawling back to Norman. Still, what other choice did they have? Who else but the Gym Leaders and the Elite Four had the resources and manpower to take on a group as large and ruthless as Team Magma? Who else could be properly motivated to take a stand against the extremist land lovers in short order? Who else…

“I’m telling you, he won’t listen,” Brendan protested. “There’s other Gym Leaders we could talk to instead of—”

“What about Team Aqua?” May asked.

Everyone turned to look at her, and she flushed at all the attention suddenly on her.

“What about them, May?” Wally said in that calm, sagacious tone he had that made him wise beyond his years.

“Well, they’ve always been at odds with Team Magma, right? And they’re a huge organization, just as big as Team Magma,” May said.

“Wait, you mean those pirates?” Buck said.

Brendan stabbed his food. “As in, criminals. Eco-terrorists.”

“You’re suggesting pitting Team Aqua against Team Magma,” Flannery said thoughtfully. “But why would they help?”

Brendan pulled a face. “Why are we even discussing this? It’s a terrible idea.”

May set her jaw as she valiantly ignored that. “Their believe in ocean conservation. Why wouldn’t they oppose any kind effort to expand the landmass at the expense of the ocean? And more importantly, they’d have every reason to move fast—faster than the Elite Four, at least.”

“May, they’re _criminals_. Literal pirates. They kill people who get in the way of their crazy environmentalism,” Brendan said.

“Pitting fanatics against fanatics,” Buck said. “It’s risky, but if it worked, they could take care of Team Magma for us. At least long enough for your Elite Four to decide it’s worth their time and effort to step in.”

“It sounds pretty dangerous,” Wally said.

“It sounds _insane_ ,” Brendan said. “I mean, hell, we’d have a better chance of going after Team Magma ourselves instead of relying on a zealot like Archie Taitano.”

“May, I see your point and I’m loving your crazy, but it’s really risky,” Flannery said. “If Team Aqua ever found out about the Red Orb, there’s no telling what they might do with that information.”

May deflated. “But what else are we supposed to do? Team Magma has the Red Orb now. What if they summon Groudon tomorrow?”

No one had anything to say to that, and a short but tense pause hung over the table, until Buck broke it.

“Actually, pitting these two groups against each other could cancel them out. If they already have this preexisting conflict between them, it wouldn’t take much to escalate what’s already there. Then, we could use the distraction to step in and get the Red Orb back.”

May latched onto Buck’s suggestion like a lifeline. “Yes, exactly! And with Team Aqua causing trouble, Team Magma would be more focused on them than on hurting more innocent people. I’m not saying it’s a perfect plan—” (“Oh, well thank god you haven’t lost your humility along with your mind,” Brendan muttered.) “—but it could at least buy us a little time to get the Elite Four to believe the story.”

“I see the logic,” Wally said. “It does make sense, even if it’s a risk.”

Brendan growled. “Oh yeah? How would we even get Team Aqua involved? Anybody have Archie’s X-Transceiver number handy?”

“We tell him ourselves,” May said.

“We what now?” Flannery looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head.

Brendan matched her shock. May swallowed and steeled her nerves. She’d backed herself into this corner, so she might as well start camping.

“Look, Team Aqua docks in Slateport City, right? My Flyers can get us there in a couple days’ time, and—”

“And what?” Brendan interjected. “We just ask the first Aqua grunt we see if we can talk to Archie? Argh, got a proposition for ya, matey? Yveltal take you. That guy’s insane and everyone knows that. He could kill us on a whim.”

“Or he could help us! Crazy or not, he’s built one of the largest followings in Hoenn. That takes compromise and charisma. There’s no way he did it by being a total dumbass psycho who kills anyone who crosses his path.”

Buck and Wally clutched their drinks, wide-eyed and quiet as May and Brendan, now on their feet, shouted at each other across the dinner table.

“Hey, both of you chill out—” Flannery tried to interrupt, but May and Brendan ignored her.

“Except that’s exactly the kind of person he is!” Brendan shouted. “You remember the raids on Mossdeep a couple years back when they were trying to build that new space center and destroying the coral reefs? Archie straight-up bombed the coastline! No questions, just cannons!”

“I’m not saying he’s Hoenn’s Next Top Good Samaritan, just that we have a common enemy here!”

“He’s worse than Maxie!”

“How can he be worse than the man who slaughtered a quarter of the people in this town chasing a fucking _ball_?!”

“He’s a fucking Tamer, May! We obviously can’t trust him!”

“That’s enough!” Flannery bellowed over them.

Nearby, Ninetales snarled, and her tails glowed with blue fire at her mistress’ hostility. Wally’s Kirlia Teleported protectively close to him, hackles raised and crimson eyes narrowed. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but May barely felt it as she stared at Brendan in seething sadness.

“I’m sorry,” May said, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “I have to go. Thank you for the dinner, Flannery.”

Buck called out to her to wait, but she set off down the street, fuming and hurt and unable to do anything about it but walk away.

Footsteps caught up to her. “May, wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”

May whirled. “Like what, Brendan? Like you have a problem with even considering my suggestion because Archie’s a Tamer?”

“It’s because he’s a _criminal_ that I have a problem with it.”

“He’s a fucking Tamer, that’s what you just said. You know who else is a Tamer? Me.”

Wally caught up to them. “Guys, hey, we shouldn’t fight, please!”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Brendan spat.

“It’s exactly the same and _you_ know it.”

“You’re not like the others!”

“Yes, I am!” May had tears in her eyes now. People passing them in the street stopped to gawk, but she couldn’t care less. “I’m the same as Archie, and your dad, and Buck, and every other Tamer in the world because I was born this way. I try to ignore it, to pretend it’s not real, but no matter what I do I can’t change that. I’m sorry you weren’t, and I’m sorry you’ll never be good enough for your dad’s bigoted standards, but that’s _not my fault_!”

“May!” Wally gasped.

Brendan glared at her through his own tears, and she knew she’d gone too far. “Fine then. Go and cozy up to Archie if you want. See if I care.”

He turned to leave, and May reached a trembling hand for him. “Brendan, wait, I didn’t mean—”

“Your meaning was _perfectly_ clear,” he said. “I wasn’t born strong and special like you. So don’t let a knock-off like me stand in your way.”

He stalked off, and May was left stunned in the street wishing she could swallow her stupid pride and go after him, but her feet were welded to the cobblestone.

“Come on, Wally!” Brendan barked.

Wally looked between May and Brendan helplessly.

“Wally,” May said miserably, her angry tears hot on her cheeks.

Wally winced. “I should… I’m sorry, May.”

She didn’t try to stop him running after Brendan, like he always did.

* * *

The _Empress_ was a double-masted brigantine ship with one blue sail amidst the whites, a badge of honor and omen among its brethren docked in the Slateport harbor. She was an elegant boat, as far as boats can be elegant, May supposed. More importantly, she was hiring.

It was almost laughable how easy it was to join Team Aqua. No sooner had Toucannon landed in salt-and-stone Slateport City than May heard the call for crewmen aboard the merchant trading vessel bound for Sootopolis far to the South. May signed her name at the seaside inn she’d booked for one night only, accepted a used uniform that fit her in the chest but sagged in the butt, and walked up the gangway to board the _Empress_ as the newest member of Captain Matt Laguana’s crew.

“Your sword, m’lady,” said a fellow deckhand in Team Aqua’s blue and white stripes. He shoved an old mop into her hands before she could do anything about it, and then he stalked off laughing.

“Lovely,” May muttered, and looked around for a bucket.

“Hey, you. Start here, make your way aft.” A crewman with too much red hair hanging in his eyes under a black bandana embossed with the Aqua skull and crossbones wielded a mop of his own. He looked like a strip of jerky trussed up in his Aqua stripes, all sinew and eyebrows. But there was youth in his eyes as he clung to his own mop like a child clings to his mother’s skirts. He couldn’t have been a day older than Wally.

“You new?” May asked, dunking her mop and getting to work scrubbing the irreparably grimy deck.

“Are you?” he said petulantly.

“I’m on mop duty. Obviously.”

He scowled, and it creeped her out. His mouth was like a paper cut, red-lipped and thin, as if his face wasn’t meant to open that way.

“I’m May,” said May.

Beady, black eyes peered at her as the two of them pumped their mops over the deck and other crew members shuffled past them as though they were invisible. Slateport harbor shrank on the horizon behind them as the wind filled the sails and the quartermaster barked out orders.

“Sid,” the kid said, tempered like a fire-beaten blade dunked in water.

May managed a smile for him. A really small one. “Hey.”

“Whatever,” he muttered.

A loud clap drew their attention as the quartermaster called for attention—their captain was here to address them on their next voyage.

“Ho! Back out again and crammed to the gills with good shit and good people, just how I like it.” Captain Matt Laguana’s voice boomed over the churning sea at the _Empress’_ stern as she drifted farther to sea. “You newbies…” He looked around the gathered crew that had paused their chores to pay attention. “Sea’ll put some hair on those baby faces, see that she don’t.”

He was a big man— _I mean, BIG._ North of six feet and packed with so much muscle he resembled a sack of lemons, Matt was not so much a man as a bulwark. His own face bristled with a coarse, teak beard a shade darker than his complexion, full of tiny braids and bells as though a gaggle of girls had gotten their hands on him.

When his coal-soaked eyes landed on May, they narrowed, but not in malice. Unlike Sid, Matt worked his smile like a well-oiled machine. Against all logic and reason, May found herself drawn to that singular acknowledgment. The girl in her blushed, and the force in her quieted if only for a moment. He had a face that wanted trusting, which was the last thing on this green earth that May could ever afford to do.

“Well, hopefully not all yer faces,” Matt said.

He looked away from her, and the sun looked away too. May let out the breath she’d been holding and told herself to get a fucking grip.

“You know him or something?” Sid said suspiciously, which was the only way Sid knew how to say anything at all, apparently.

“Of course. He’s the captain,” May shot back, because clearly Sid sucked. Some people just couldn’t help it.

He jutted out his pointy, hairless chin like the crappy teenager he was. If May wasn’t so preoccupied with her own mission, she may have wondered how someone so young had ended up mixed up with a bunch of pirates.

“Just do your job and stay outta my way.” Sid went back to his mopping and made a concerted effort not to look at her, which was just fine.

May didn’t have time for some punk kid who’d gotten in with the wrong crowd. She wasn’t here for him, anyway.

“Hoist the damn colors!” Matt barked in a jovial order, like it was a delight to shout and a joy to be alive. “Show me some horizon, boys. We got a hell of a day ahead of us, and a commodore waitin’.”

May pushed her mop over the worn wood and kept an eye on Matt as he strutted around the deck hauling ropes where a crewman wasn’t cutting it and starting up a shanty to bolster the men’s spirits.

Hell of a day ahead, indeed. And one day closer to tracking down the pirates’ elusive leader somewhere beyond the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely May will have no trouble finding Archie now that she’s joined a pirate crew under false pretenses all alone surrounded by people who are not her friends. 💁♀️
> 
> I haven’t forgotten Brendan and Wally. We’ll catch up with them in the next chapter, and possibly some new faces… Also, Steven is coming very soon, I promise. Stay tuned!


End file.
